


Take on Me

by Spideytorch



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mentioned OCD, mentioned Homophobia, mentioned anxiety, mentioned depression, the 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spideytorch/pseuds/Spideytorch
Summary: Peter Parker and Johnny Storm meet each other in the 80s. A time when Prince and Bowie were praised, Miami Vice was critically acclaimed, and someone thought shoulder pads and fanny packs were stylish.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Comments: 33
Kudos: 92





	1. The Age of Plastic

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you might have read my previous fanfic that was just.... the worst. If you haven’t- I beg you to not check it out. I feel like my writing has improved slightly and I have a bunch of chapters pre-written so I don’t plan on abandoning this one. The one thing I would like to warn you guys about is that I’m not gonna sugercoat the 80s. The decade is one of my favorites but racism and homophobia were (and still are) a huge problem back then. I will be mentioning a lot of (open minded) political views and events such as the aids crisis and people like Harvey Milk. I do not wish to romanticize and have fun with writing serious events like those but leaving them out would not make much sense for a fanfic about two gay men in 1985. Alright I’m done- enjoy!

_ We're talking away _  
_ I don't know what I'm to say _  
_I'll say it anyway_

_August 14th, 1985  
10:28PM_

The beginning of the 1980’s still felt like the 1970’s. There was no big change over night. It wasn’t as if the fashion trends immediately changed right when the clock struck twelve, or all the hit songs that would come in the future years all flooded in at once. Yuppies didn’t rise out of the ground right that second, nor did a DeLorean appear out of thin air. In a way, 1980 was still 1979.

In 1980, the Rubik’s cube was wildly popular, Empire Strikes Back hit the theaters, and John Lennon was assassinated by Mark David Chapman on December 8th. The following year, Ronald Reagan was inaugurated on January 20th and became the 40th President of the United States. And with Reagan came Reaganomics and the rising tensions between the United States and The Soviet Union. Two years after this, Reagan launched his Star Wars Program, a defense system meant to protect the United States from possible nuclear weapons.

When you think about it, it seemed as though everyone in the country should have been scared. Of course, even if they weren’t shaking with fear, people always turned on their tv every time Reagan was standing at his podium. They never missed a beat so, obviously, everyone had heard the leaks: “We begin bombing in five minutes!”

But Peter had bigger problems to deal with. Sure, Reagan making a huge mistake like that had been on his mind for a few weeks, but now all he was concerned about was how it was 1985 but Pac-Man was still never available when he went to the arcade.

Peter probably only played that game twice, and that was with the pressure of 3-6 people standing behind him waiting for him to finish up. So he stood at the arcade game labeled Zaxxan, his jean pockets filled with quarters and his Walkman clipped to his belt-loop.

In Zaxxan, you were a small yellow and pink plane that had to keep shooting green lasers at- well, Peter wasn’t really sure. He was shooting at anything that came into path so he wasn’t quite sure if he was playing it right. It wasn’t his favorite game in the world either, so he never bothered to ask anyone. Truth be told, he loathed Zaxxan. It was all bright colors and no fun.

He preferred Tetris, even if people liked to place it on the same level as Zaxxan. He was sure that the two games would be moved to the back room eventually. No one played them anymore. Recently, the hype was Mario Bros or Donkey Kong or even BurgerTime.

Game Over.

Peter dug in his pocket for more change.

Peter Parker would be starting his senior year that Friday. He would be too stressed and busy tomorrow, getting all his school supplies together and spending his last free night with his Aunt, so he figured he might as well spend the night at the arcade.

Peter didn’t really enjoy the arcade- which raised the question: why did he still come here?? The arcade was always full of kids he knew from school, people he definitely did not want to see over the summer. Maybe it was because he had nothing better to do. Maybe it was because, as much as he loved his Aunt, he couldn’t stand another night cooped up in their house as she stressed over their bills at the coffee table until it was dark outside. 

A group of girls surrounded Bubble Bobble. If Peter hadn’t of had his headphones on, he was sure he’d be able to hear them laughing and shifting the joystick from side to side.

There were a lot of people crowded inside that night. Perhaps because summer vacation was coming to an end. Looking around after his second Game Over, Peter noticed that he had recognized everyone in here. There was a kid from his neighborhood, waiting behind a teenager to play Spy Hunter, a girl with a ripped jean jacket tucked between her legs that he had geometry with last year, and an older rough looking guy that had graduated from Peter’s school a few years ago. He didn’t know why the guy still hung out with high schoolers. Peter made note to steer clear of him.

The floor was black with galaxies and planets scattered everywhere. A milky way disappeared under Peter’s stool. It was so dark in there. Maybe if they had at least a few lights on, the bright lasers that ejected from his pink plane wouldn’t have hurt his eyes so much. The lights that the arcade  _ did _ have on were neon, but seemed to get dimmer every time Peter walked inside. That night the lights were a soft purple, causing Peter’s hands to look as though he had naturally purple skin. Inside here, with the neon lights and the black hole carpet and the delicate violet lights shining on everyone’s faces, Peter always felt as if he was in a dream. The place didn’t seem to exist as he inserted another coin into the slot. Every time he stepped outside, the stars and the moon in the sky seemed jarring. The sidewalk underneath his feet felt so unfamiliar to him. The Saturns that littered the floor of the arcade seemed more real to him than he lights in the sky. 

Peter’s eyes were glued to the screen, shooting every pixel that came into view. His knuckles were bruised.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, a dark figure slid onto the stool that sat in front of Missile Command. Peter wondered if he should look over and see if it was someone else he also knew.

Turning his head, the answer to his question was no.

He had never saw anyone in there that looked like him. Raybans and blond hair and a bright pink shirt with blue slacks pulled up high. No, he didn’t know who that was.

The blond boy with the raybans hadn’t noticed him staring yet.

The pink plane crashed.

As the blond haired stranger removed his sunglasses, Peter decided that it was probably a good time to focus his attention elsewhere.

The boy met his gaze. Violet skin and blue eyes and parted lips and as they looked into each other’s eyes Peter couldn’t find any facial flaws. He was beautiful. And Peter had never met this boy before. How could he forget someone as beautiful as him? But at the same time- Peter felt like he was missing something. Up close like this, was it possible that he bumped into him on the street once? Did they cross paths at the record store a few months ago? Peter couldn’t put his finger on it.

They stared at each other for what felt like five minutes- but, in reality, it was probably, at most, a few seconds. Blond boy mouthed something to him. Peter couldn’t hear him. He was speaking too quiet.

No. Peter just had his headphones on. Reaching up and sliding them down his neck, Peter waited for the boy to say something again.

“Hi.” Is what he had said.

He could now hear the girls laughing, a boy on the opposite side of the room banging his fists on the side of his own game, and the song Tainted Love playing over the speakers.

_I give you all a boy could give you._

The familiar stranger raised his eyebrows. Oh. It was Peter’s turn to speak.

“Hi?” Peter asked. Peter wasn’t sure why this boy had wanted to talk to him of all people. There were at least ten pretty girls in the arcade that night; shouldn’t a guy like him have wanted to talk to girls like that?

“How’re you doing?” He asked Peter.

Giving him a second once over, the boy had a good sense of fashion, Peter gave him that. Looking down at his own striped shirt and jeans, Peter had suddenly felt insecure.

“Um....fine.” It was strange. The boy was still beaming at him and it looked as if he was waiting for Peter to say something else, to introduce himself, to tell this new boy about his whole day or his life story or why he kept his backpack strap looped around his foot.

“I’m Johnny Storm.” He extended his hand.

_ Johnny Storm. So that’s why he recognized him. _

Johnny Storm was part of the Fantastic Four, a superhero group that had formed back in 82, around the same time Peter had gotten his own powers.

Although Peter and Johnny were part of the same world, they never had the chance to talk- they never even fought together. The Fantastic Four had bigger- more intergalactic things to deal with all while Peter (aka Spider-Man) was trying to catch a man who tried to steal a whole hotdog cart. (Seriously, how far did that man expect to go with that thing???)

The Fantastic Four was all anybody talked about that year. Sue Storm and Johnny were beautiful, all while being gifted with those incredible powers. Reed was a renowned scientist and Ben Grimm was- Reed’s friend? Peter didn’t know anything about him, really. Anyway, the public ate them up.

And although they all emerged the same day with otherworldly powers that not one person could fathom, the publicity was after Johnny the most. Peter vaguely remembered Johnny in the newspaper right next to a flattering picture of Michael J. Fox. Peter hadn’t bothered picking up the paper. He had a lot more to worry about at that time. It was the year that May and Peter came this close to being evicted from their house and Peter was searching everywhere for a job besides the lousy cash he earned for taking pictures of Spider-Man. 

It was weird. Peter had always expected Spider-Man and Johnny Storm to meet first. Not  _ Peter Parker _ and Johnny Storm. 

“I’m Peter.” He shook his hand. Peter spoke again before he even gave it a second thought, “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

Johnny laughed. Peter’s chest tightened. “Yeah, arcades aren’t really my thing. Just thought I’d get out of the house is all.”

“There’s a club across the street.” Peter turned in his chair to face the screen again. If he looked at Johnny any longer, even with all this neon lightning, Peter was sure Johnny would be able to see the pink dusting his cheeks.

“I’m not legal.” Johnny still stared at the side of Peter’s face.

“Yeah but I’m sure they’d let you in. You’re in the Fantastic Four. They’d have to pull strings for you, right?” Peter wasn’t sure if he should insert another coin.

“I guess so.” Johnny mumbled. It was silent again. Peter wasn’t sure what to do now. He was staring at the high scores. Should he put his headphones back on? Was Johnny going to talk to him again? Peter wondered if he had said something wrong.

“Let’s go then.” Johnny suddenly stood up and Peter jerked his head to the side.

_ Both of them? _

“What’re you talking about?” Peter asked. He was starting to feel anxious. There was no way Peter could go anywhere with the Human Torch without A. Making a fool out of himself or B. Causing Johnny to never want to talk to him again.

“The club. Like you said, they’ll let me in, even if I have a guest.”

Peter was speechless. No one had ever asked him to go to a club before. But when he thought about it, that was probably because one look at Peter just screamed ‘this guy would probably curl up in a ball and die if someone took  _ him _ to a club.’

“You’re joking.”

Johnny looked confused. “Why would I be?”

He placed his hand near Peter’s. This was not happening. Peter’s face was burning up. Was anyone watching? Would anyone care? Johnny shouldn’t have been standing this close to him. Johnny’s wrist brushed against Peter’s.

“Let’s go dancing!” Johnny grinned.

“ _ Together _ ?!” Peter’s voice squeaked.

“Why not?” Johnny frowned. “Guys dance together all the time.”

“Yeah but the- and.....I don’t know how to dance.” He shook his head furiously. Peter should make a run for it. It was only a matter of time before he embarrassed himself.

“I can teach you.” Johnny was still smiling at him.

Peter stood up quickly, so quick that he almost felt dizzy. Johnny Storm asking him to go dance could also have been a cause of how light headed he was feeling but it wasn’t time to think about that now. Bending down, Peter scooped his backpack up, and, in the process, all the coins had spilled from his pockets and onto the floor. 

“Are you okay?” There was concern laced in Johnny’s voice. “You’re money i-“

“I just remembered! I have to get home!” Peter couldn’t deal with that right then. In fact- he didn’t have the first  _ clue _ in how to deal with something like that.

“But your money-“ The quarters we’re still rolling in every direction on the floor.

“Charity,” Peter exclaimed, “The arcade needs it more than I do!” He started toward the exit.

It seemed that Johnny wouldn’t be giving up that easy. He threw his hands out in front of him and Peter came to a halt. “At least let me walk you home. It’s late.”

“I can’t really- but I’ll take you up on that some other time! Thanks!” His backpack hung loosely off his shoulder and his headphones were dragging behind him on the floor. So much for making a casual and clean escape. 

As the door shut behind him and the last lines sung by _Soft Cell_ echoed inside, Peter desperately wanted to scream out in frustration.

He pressed his back against the entrance and swallowed hard. He was nervous and confused and gross- he was sweating. A lot.

“I’m such an idiot.” He whispered to himself.

Any normal person would have either simply denied or accepted a beautiful and famous superhero’s offer to go dancing. Any normal person would. Luckily, Peter was far from normal. Not only could he stick to walls and lift a car over his head, but he was also oddly skilled at panicking in public and losing almost five dollars in nickels and quarters in the process.

He had no clue what Johnny’s motive was. Dancing. Even if Peter had said yes, he couldn’t dance if his life depended on it. Nowadays, everyone was  _ phenomenal _ at dancing. They knew all the new moves as soon as they were  created and they looked as if they were all secretly professional dancers. Peter did not dance- not unless he wanted everyone to laugh at him.

Who was he kidding? No matter how many ways he imagined it, he couldn’t see himself running across the street with Johnny.

Johnny was still inside, sitting on the stool, probably wondering why some weird guy in a striped shirt bolted out of the place as soon as Johnny had said hello.

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked over his shoulder. No use in being bitter over it. He might as well get out of here before Johnny decided to rush out of the building and spot Peter still standing there. Peter could barely handle being asked to go dancing. He doesn’t know what would happen if Johnny would try and- but Johnny wasn’t like that. There was no way- not in a million years. He was just looking into it too much. Johnny couldn’t be.

_August 15th, 1985  
11:19PM_

Peter turned his Walkman over in his hands. As he ran his fingers over the silver word that read _Sony_ he smiled to himself.

Walkman’s were all the rage recently. You had turntables and the radio but with a portable cassette player- you could walk to school or run on your treadmill all while you had music flooding in your ears.

You had your own personal music while someone a few feet away was listening to something completely different. It was incredible.

In Peter’s case, he kept it on him as he walked to and from school and also kept his headphones on during his lunch period. He also liked to listen to his favorite tracks while kicking muggers in their throats. Peter’s trick was to web his headphones to his head so they wouldn’t fall off.

The tricky part was trying to keep his walkman from getting crushed or the wire getting tangled up somewhere along the way. So far, it had worked out pretty good for him. Of course he knew the risk of getting his precious cassette player destroyed was pretty large, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The feeling of his favorite songs playing in his head as he dropkicked some villain in an alleyway grew to be one of his favorite feelings in the world. As nerdy as it had sounded, it was like he was in his own movie. Spider-Man: The Movie! Starring Peter Parker and Judd Nelson. He wasn’t clear on what Judd Nelson would be doing in a Spider-Man movie, but he could find a place for him. Frankly, he could just stand there and Peter would be thrilled.

Peter’s aunt had surprised him with his Walkman last summer. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she brought it home to him, new and still sealed in it’s box. At first, he pushed it back into her hands and begged her to return it to the store. There were so many portable cassette players in stores right now so why did she bring home the one that was most expensive?

Money was tight at the moment- hell, money was always tight in their house but Peter didn’t mind. He always told her that they would get through it together. So it was even a bigger surprise when she shoved a wad full of cash into his hand and told him to run down to the store and buy any cassettes he wanted or she would kick his ass.

Tears welled in his eyes. Again, he tried to get her to return the gift and take back the money because- and to this day- he had no idea how she was able to afford it. But when his aunt made up her mind there was no going back. May pushed him out the door, slammed it shut behind him, and Peter walked across the city to his favorite record store and bought five of his favorite albums on cassette. They were always pretty picked over, but he didn’t mind. 

His favorite cassette he had bought was an album that came out only a few months before he was gifted his Walkman:  _ Welcome to the Pleasuredome  by _ _Frankie Goes To Hollywood_.  He probably had listened to it’s entirety over twenty times.

He rotated his cassettes around every now and then so he didn’t get tired of listening to the same songs, but it had been about a year and he’d had the same five albums playing in his ear. Peter hated when he complained about little things such as that, but if he had to hear  _ Black Night White Light _ one more time he might as well hurl himself off the tallest building in the city.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a headache starting to form. Spidey sense. Peter pulled his mask back over his face, pushed play on his Walkman, and allowed himself to fall off the rooftop of his favorite building in the city.

A few blocks away, a tall white man was gripping a gun so hard in his hands that his knuckles turned white. The woman behind the counter was shaking as she reached forward, slowly, to open the cash register for him. The man, still pointing his gun at the waitress, reached forward and grabbed every single bill inside of it. As he had turned his back to the woman, he came face to face with the infamous Spider-Man. God, he was screwed.

The man shouted something to Peter and he couldn’t help but to let out an annoying cackle that, fortunately, he wasn’t able to hear with his own ears.

“Sorry”, Peter shouted, “I cant hear you! I have headphones on!” He made an excessive job of pointing at the headphones placed on top of his head. The man snarled and reeled back before lunging forward in an attempt to knock all of Peter’s teeth out.

_ Relax _ .

Peter kicked the money out of his hands, sending the bills flying into the air and floating down onto the floor and the countertops.

_Don’t do it_.

The man pulled the trigger and it took Peter less than one second to dodge it, grab the man’s wrist, and squeeze until the gun fell out of his hands and onto the floor. 

_When you want to go to it_.

Sending the gun flying to the opposite side of the room, Peter kicked the man’s legs out from underneath him and the man crumbled to the floor. Peter’s mouth quirked up because-  _ it was kinda pathetic. _

_ Relax. _

Peter slid his headphones back down around his neck and looked down at the man, his cheek squished into the floor and failure written across his face. Recently, it was all men like this. Whether it be robbing a diner, harassing someone on the street, or trying to steal someone’s car, lately they’ve all been so....easy to immobilize. A few months ago, it took him the whole song to incapacitate someone. Now it only took him the first 34 seconds. 

“Boring.” Peter mumbled. Turning to the woman, her eyes still wet with tears and her hands grappling at the countertop, he said, “You can call the police. I don’t think he’s getting up anytime soon.” Peter glanced at the man one more time. Like he said, pathetic. 

“Wait,” She replied, “Can you wait around? Just until they get here. Please.” 

Peter looked at the clock on the wall. 11:30PM. 

“Of course.” Peter smiled, but it’s not like it mattered. She couldn’t see what expression he was making underneath his mask. 

It’s not like he could tell the girl it was a school night. How ridiculously lame would that sound?? Peter groaned. It’s what he deserved for going out that night. He should have just stayed home and went to bed early. He just couldn’t help it. He was an idiot. 

“Thank you so much! Pie? It’s on the house!” She stumbled over to a glass case and her legs were still wobbly from fear.

“You should really sit d-“ 

She mumbled back to him that it was the least she could do- or something along those lines-and scooped a slice of cherry pie onto a plate. And it’s not like Peter could say _no_. 

_August 16th, 1985_  
_12:53AM_

It took the cops an entire hour to arrive. By the time they got there, Peter was on his fifth slice of pie and his eyes wouldn’t stop drooping. Seriously, how were all the cops in this city so terrible at their job? And Peter wouldn’t say he hated cops per se, because if they actually did do their jobs, Peter wouldn’t have one of his own! But God- what were they doing that took them an entire hour to get there? But Peter simply thanked them, even though seconds after they had arrested the diner thief, they tried to grab at Spider-Man.

Spider-Man was still considered a criminal. He wasn’t appraised or as popular as Reed Richards or Tony Stark or Janet Van Dyne. Everyone said he was just a guy playing dress up.

So the cops despised him. And Peter wanted to feel offended- but who  _ didn’t _ the cops despise recently? Everyone was their target- they tore apart peaceful protests and threw tear gas and tossed protestors in jail without blinking. He had to tip toe around them. Because the people in the streets who liked to scream up at the sky that the NYPD was corrupt- they had a point. 

Crawling through the window of his own room, removing his mask, Peter plopped down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. His bed side lamp was still on but he couldn’t bother to reach over and turn it off, nor did he feel like closing the window. He was so tired that he didn’t mind if any mosquitos flew in during the night.

Peter looked down at his suit. He should really take this thing off. His music still played in his ears. He should turn that off too.

_ Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire? _

_August 16th, 1985_  
_ 7:48AM _

“Peter?!” Someone knocked on his door. “You’re up right?!”

Peter didn’t want to open his eyes. It felt like he only had gotten two hours of sleep that night. He told himself that late night patrols on school nights were banned from that point on. He rolled on his side and tucked his blanket under his chin. He shouted out, “I’m up!” 

“Okay- I’ll make you something to eat. You have ten minutes!” May’s footsteps retreated from the door and a clanging of pots was heard in the kitchen.

Ten minutes. Peter pushed his face into his mattress and let out a sigh of content. He was on the verge of falling back to sleep again when he ran the conversation back in his head. Ten minutes??

Peter‘s eyes flew open and turned to look at the clock on his wall. 7:50AM.

_Ten minutes_.

Kicking his bedsheets aside, Peter stumbled out of bed and looked down at himself. He was still wearing his suit. He fell asleep in his suit so many times, he was surprised he hadn’t woken up to Aunt May screaming in his doorway yet. It was only a matter of time before she opened his door and saw the mask thrown on the floor and his Spidey boots sticking out from underneath his blanket. He really needed to work on that.

Looking in his closet as he pulled his boots and gloves off, there was really no time to think about what jeans would go with which t-shirt. As he slid his suit down his body, he realized that all his clothes looked the same.

Peter really didn’t have a good sense of fashion. Or- it was more like all the fashion trends that the 80s had to offer didn’t quite suit him. There were the bright colored pants and shirts with the sweater thrown over the shoulders- but that was more for the rich younger guys that attended his school.

There were the people who wore blazers and slacks to class too- again, that was the fashion for the rich. There were other little trends too here and there. Peter couldn’t pull off sleeveless shirts or leather jackets and he definitely did not look good in parachute pants.

Pulling out his favorite shirt (that was so worn that he probably needed a new one) he slipped it over his head and grabbed a pair of acid washed jeans from his clean clothes hamper (he rarely felt like folding and putting his clothes in his drawers). 

Peter didn’t have time to be anxious about starting a new year with new classmates and new teachers- and maybe he was a bit relieved that he was so busy trying to find his pair of off brand Reebok high tops that he couldn’t bring himself to care about what all the new people in his gym or early world literature class would think of him.

It only took him two minutes to locate his shoes (shoved under his bed) and he pulled them on quickly, not minding that the socks he had pulled on were mismatched. Grabbing the dark green jacket hanging on his desk chair, pulling his belt on and grabbing his backpack from the floor, he pulled it on and gave himself one final look in the mirror.

Looking at his white shirt with big black letters reading _Frankie Say Relax Don’t Do It!_ , his cuffed jeans and his socks pulled up to his ankles, he cleaned up pretty well for only having two minutes to slap something together.

Grabbing his cassette player from his bed, he found himself grateful that he didn’t roll over and break it in the middle of the night. Popping it open, he replaced  _ Welcome To The Pleasuredome with  The Age of Plastic _ by  _ The Buggles. _

Finally, Peter scooped his suit up from the floor and lifted his mattress, squeezing it underneath, knowing that his aunt would never find it there. 

Peter shut the door behind him and entered the kitchen, spotting his aunt busying herself with a carton of eggs over the kitchen counter. 

He dropped his backpack on the chair and blurted out to her quickly, “May, I woke up late I don’t have time to sit down and eat- sorry!” And he rushed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, fix his hair, and wash his face. He felt gross, not having the time to shower beforehand. Opening one of the bathroom drawers, he pulled out a bottle of cologne and sprayed it on himself. Better, but he still felt nasty. 

Returning to the kitchen, Peter grabbed an apple from the countertop and peeled off the sticker. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?” May asked, cracking an egg on the side of the pan for, Peter assumed, herself. 

“Yeah, I went to sleep pretty late.” He said. He hated lying to her. But would May really understand why Peter was sitting on top of a forty-year-old man’s back while scarfing down a third slice of pie at midnight? 

“Well hurry you’re gonna be late- you might make it if you run.” She let out a chuckle. 

“Thanks.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you later, May!” He adjusted his backpack again and started toward the door. 

“Have a good day!” She shouted and the door slammed behind him.

Now if Peter had walked, he’d probably be ten minutes late to class. If Peter had ran, he’d make it (barely) but did he really want to arrive to class sweaty and out of breath? No. And he could swing there- the best choice probably. But he hadn’t brought his suit with him that day and without his mask it would be pretty fishy to see a teenage boy swinging his way to high school.

Peter couldn’t drive (because why get a license in New York?? Also- he was Spider-Man) and he couldn’t ride a bike either (seriously, those things were death traps).

Speed walking would have to do.

When Peter reached the halfway point to school, he decided running the rest of the way was his best option.

Stomping up the stairs and pushing the doors open, the clock in the entrance read that he was already three minutes late to class. Peter lowered his head and sighed deeply before venturing his way to the second floor.

His first period was sociology class. He was grateful that it was his first class of the day because Peter found himself interested in sociology. He was surprised they were offering it this year too- for the two previous years they had to cut it due to not enough students signing up).

Room 228 was around the corner and as he stood outside the classroom door he knew that as soon as he turned the door handle 20 pairs of eyes would be locked onto him. Their first impression would be a semi-sweaty kid who was late to class. He looked down the hallway at a clock above the lockers- five minutes late on the first day. This was a nightmare. Humiliated on the first day of school? He wasn’t surprised.

He ran his hands through his hair and looked down at his shirt once more. He picked off a piece of lint.

He reached toward the door handle and pushed it open. And just like that he was standing in front of a middle aged woman who clutched a stack of papers and a classroom full of people.

“I’m assuming,” She gazed at him coldly, “You’re Mr. Parker.”

The woman didn’t seem too excited to see him. When she spoke her mouth twisted into a nasty snarl and her hand was placed on her hip- the famous stance of a woman who was fed up with whatever you had just done to them.

“Uh- you assumed correct.” Peter found himself saying. Someone coughed. Peter would be sure to kick himself for that comment later. 

“No music in my class. If I see it again it’ll be confiscated.” Peter was confused for a second before he realized his headphones still remained on top of his head. He nodded and she handed him one of the papers that she held in her hands.

“Find yourself a seat.” He scanned the classroom, finding an empty seat in the back corner.

“And Mr. Parker?” She asked. 

Peter hummed and turned to look back at her.

“Try not to be late to my class again.”

“Noted.” He mumbled and then made his way to the back desk. No one was snickering at him yet or whispering stuff about him back and forth and, personally, he found that to be a win.

Peter dropped his backpack next to the desk and sat down in his chair. Unzipping his backpack, he unclipped his Walkman and delicately placed it on the top of his books. Sitting straight, Peter turned his attention back to his teacher. He looked down at the paper that was handed to him and realized that it was the class syllabus.

The teacher began to speak again and as he listened to what she had in store for their first semester, he looked at the people in the room and tried to see if he had any classes with them in the previous years. He saw a lot of them around in the hallways, but he wasn’t quite sure if they ever shared a class together. Not one familiar face. Maybe he could make more friends this year? 

Out of the corner of his eye, a pencil was close to rolling off of someone else’s desk. A hand suddenly reached out, stopping it before it hit the ground. His eyes followed the wrist and the forearm and the shoulder before landing on the person’s face.

_ You’ve got to be kidding me. _

Johnny Storm. Was in his sociology class. He was still wearing the raybans he had on Wednesday night but this time he was wearing an oversized blue and white pullover with jeans to match. And Jesus- he looked good in that dark arcade a couple of days ago, but in the bright lights of the classroom, he looked even more stunning than before.

“Peter Parker.” He whispered to him. “I knew I recognized that name somewhere.”

Peter swallowed. 

“You’re the guy who takes pictures for The Bugle, right?” He asked.

“I-“ Before Peter could answer him, the teacher interrupted them and snapped, “No talking either.”

Johnny looked back down at his paper.

Really, what were the odds? That Johnny Storm of all people was in his first hour class?! And not only did he wonder as to why Johnny was in his class, but why was Johnny in high school at all?? He remembered a few years back that, after Johnny had gotten his powers, his sister and her husband agreed that homeschooling would be the best option for him. So why was he here? Did something change?

Peter felt like hiding in the corner of a dark room and crying. It was the Parker Luck! And speaking of, why did nothing go his way? He embarrassed himself in front of what he probably thought was the most attractive guy he had ever laid his eyes on, and now, said guy was attending his school!

Peter didn’t know if Johnny would try and talk to him the rest of the period or if they shared any other classes together. He didn’t know what to expect and it scared him. He was already ready for the day to be over and he was only sitting in class for two minutes. 

Throughout the whole duration of the class, Peter’s foot bounced up and down. With Johnny sitting one foot away from him, he was so scared that he didn’t even want to blink. Another thing that made his heart race was the fact that this was the first day of school, meaning teachers were very prone to doing those “introduce yourself to the class!” activities. It sounded silly, Peter being in his senior year, but surprisingly, teachers still did that. It didn’t matter if you were starting fifth grade or the twelfth, almost every teacher ate that shit up. The very thought of Peter getting up in front of a classroom- a classroom that had Johnny Storm in it- made his stomach churn.

First period dragged on for what felt like eternity. He had no idea how the teacher was able to talk non stop for a full 55 minutes but she did- right up until the bell. Alright, it was time for him to make his exit. Peter stood up and prepared to make a beeline straight out of the class.

But that would be too easy. Because as soon as he started to head out, Johnny grabbed his arm and opened his mouth to say something.

“Sorry,” He sputtered, and he didn’t know why he was borderline shouting but that was the way it come out, “I’m late for class!”

He didn’t need to turn back around to see that Johnny was utterly confused. Because the bell just rang for the next class- so what would Peter have been late for? He couldn’t come up with good excuses if his life depended on it. 

As Peter headed downstairs to his second hour class, he wondered why he was so afraid. Because- honestly- he didn’t know what this thing was going on between him and Johnny. Scratch that, there was no thing going on between them. So did Johnny want to be his friend? Why else would he try and keep talking to him? Why did he sit next to Peter at the arcade in the first place? Why did he want to take him dancing and why did he grab his arm and try and talk to him again? Johnny had plenty of friends - or plenty of people that would want to be his friend- so Peter couldn’t wrap his mind around why Johnny wanted to keep approaching him.

The rest of the day Peter kept trying to figure it out. Did he want something from him? Did he need Peter’s help? Or even worse- did Johnny know that Peter was Spider-Man? A far fetched idea- but he couldn’t completely throw it out. He should make a list.

As he sat by himself at lunch, he kept looking over his shoulder in fear that Johnny would be walking his way. In gym, he wanted to start dancing when everyone was lined up for attendance and he didn’t see Johnny anywhere in sight. So at the end of the day, when the last bell rang, a wave of relief rushed over him. He made it through the rest of his classes without seeing Johnny once. 

Peter stopped in the middle of the hallway and unzipped his backpack to grab his Walkman. While he dug around inside his backpack to find where the chord of his headphones were stuck, a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

Looking up, his chest tightening, he didn’t dare turn around. It was Johnny, it had to be. That’s just how things worked out for him. Turning around, slowly, Peter was ready to face his fears.

When he saw red hair and dark eyeshadow instead of raybans and a flashy grin, Peter felt like dropping to his knees and thanking God for helping him out on this one. 

“Oh, thank god!” Peter cried out and threw himself into her arms, grappling onto her shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” She laughed. 

Mary Jane Watson had been his best friend ever since freshman year of high school. They dated for awhile too and it was great at first- but toward the end of the year they knew that their relationship was crumbling apart- and they thought it best to break it off instead of letting it drag out. And they were still great friends. But MJ was so busy lately, her modeling career was really taking off and Peter didn’t want to bother her when she had so much going on. So they didn’t see each other too much in the summer- and to Peter’s disappointment, they didn’t seem to share any classes this year either. 

“It’s a long story.” Peter replied and that’s that. He didn’t feel like explaining the entire situation right at the moment and MJ never pried when she knew Peter wasn’t ready to talk about something. 

“Okay....well whenever you’re ready to explain why you’re holding on to me for dear life, I’m here.” She said. MJ intertwined their hands and they walked to the parking lot together.

“So how was your day?” MJ asked. 

“Stressful.” 

She raised her eyebrows, “I’m guessing that’s another thing that you’ll explain later.” 

“It’s,” He sighed, “It’s super complicated. I mean- it’s not too bad but....I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I’m confused about everything right now.” He explained.

She hummed and then suddenly blurted, “Speaking of surprises- did you see Johnny Storm in the halls today?” 

Peter’s fingers twitched.

“D-Do you know why? Did you hear anything?”He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. He didn’t want MJ to know just yet.

“Nah, I only saw him in the hallway today and a few of my gal pals were talking about it.” She shrugged.

“Oh.”

Approaching her car, MJ suddenly turned to him and squeezed his hands in her own. 

“We have to spend time together next week, like old times! I would this weekend but I’m so busy and everything is,” She took a deep breath, “So hectic.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m always available for you.”

MJ threw her head back and grumbled, “Ugh. You’re too sweet. Really. Listen, I gotta motor. And I’d offer you a ride but I have-“

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Peter asked.

“Of course you will!” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Have fun dealing with- whatever it is you’re going through right now.”

Peter turned on his heel and left. 

People were still flooding out of school and as he watched everyone find their friends and head toward their own cars or grab their bikes, Peter found himself missing his friend Harry. They were inseparable until his father had forced him to attend a boarding school for his junior year. It’s been so long since they saw each other. They exchanged letters back and forth but that was it. They hadn’t talked or did anything together in ages and Peter found himself wondering how different his school life would be if Harry was still by his side. He frowned.

Deep in thought about the best friend he suddenly fell out of touch with, he didn’t notice someone saddling up next to him until it was too late.

“Hey.” And just like that, Johnny Storm was walking beside him. Peter didn’t even have time to mentally prepare for it. He didn’t see him coming or even sense it and now he was supposed to deal with him right on the spot.

Peter opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You said that you’d let me walk you home some other time. Is now a good time?” He flashed him a blinding smile.

“I-I guess so.” Peter stuttered.

“Cool.” Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets and they were off.

It was quiet for awhile, the only sounds being their shoes slapping the sidewalk and the students still shouting in the background. The sun hid behind a cluster of clouds and the air started to smell like rain. Peter figured it would start drizzling sooner or later.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek before finally mustering up the courage to speak again. “Can I ask you a question?”

The corner of Johnny’s lips turned up. “Of course.”

He was so soft spoken. He always remembered certain newspapers that didn’t take to him to kindly regarding him as a loud mouthed teenager and he had heard the same thing from a few other supers. Peter recalled Stark saying that Johnny could never shut his mouth.

The Johnny they had described then seemed nothing like the Johnny standing beside him now. It could be that Johnny wasn’t fully comfortable with Peter yet and he understood that. They’ve exchanged few words with each other and maybe in the upcoming weeks Johnny would start acting like who he really was.....but soft spoken Johnny wasn’t so bad.

“Why’re you here? I mean- not here with me I know why- well- I mean why’re you here at school? Also you have a car, right? So why aren’t you- where is it? Okay, that’s two questions feel free to answer both- or just the one. If that’s okay with you.” He couldn’t help himself. He rambled when he was nervous. 

Johnny huffed out a laugh.

“My sister decided it was better that my last year of high school be surrounded by people my age.” He shrugged.

Peter furrowed his brow. He expected something more- exciting. Something more superhero-like. Something along the lines of maybe Johnny was undercover. Seriously, a simple answer like that wasn’t what he had expected.

“As for the car, I really rather not have something so expensive in a high school parking lot. I don’t trust the people around here. I’m fine just walking.” Peter stifled a laugh. He sounded like a yuppie. 

Now that those questions were answered, he desperately wanted to ask why Johnny wanted to walk him home so bad. Peter brushed it off though. As much as it was nagging at his brain, it would seem like such a weird and random question to ask three minutes into their conversation.

Instead, another wave of comfortable silence fell upon them. Staring at him out of the corner of his eye, Johnny’s blond hair glowed in the sunlight and his lips always seemed to be in a pout. Before he had the chance to look away, Johnny decided it was the perfect chance to meet his gaze. 

Peter had felt his heart jump out of his chest. Now more than ever, Peter wanted to just-

“What music are you listening to right now?” Johnny asked him. 

Peter blinked. God, he could go on for hours about music- about who he thought the best group was, what album that’d been released in the past few years that was the best, and what genre was his favorite. If there was one thing Peter could talk endlessly about.

He reminded himself to not go overboard. He told himself that he should keep it simple or else he might scare Johnny away. Peter admitted that at times he could be pretty intense when the right questions were asked of him.

“Uh,” Peter looked down at his Walkman. “I’m listening to The Buggles right now....Duran Duran is also a good group.”

“Totally! I haven’t heard much of their stuff but the few songs that come on the radio are awesome.” Johnny exclaimed.

Peter hummed in agreement.

“So what, you take your Walkman with you everywhere? You were wearing it at the arcade too.” Johnny pointed out. 

“I like listening to music as much as I can but- I only have a few cassette tapes so it’s kinda boring, listening to the same stuff all the time.” Peter responded.

Johnny pressed his eyebrows together in confusion, “Why don’t you just go buy some more then? There’s some good albums out right now.”

“I can’t really afford any right now.” Peter admitted. He waited for Johnny to look at him with pity in his eyes.

Whenever Peter had a conversation and the topic of money was involved, it’s not like he would  _ lie _ to the person about his financial status. It was simple sentences such as “I don’t have that kind of money.” or “I can’t really afford that type of stuff.” And the person would apologize repeatedly following said sentence. Peter told them not to worry about it because why were they apologizing? It wasn’t their fault.

“Hey!” Johnny exclaimed and Peter had been thrown off at how animated he had become.

Johnny reached up and scratched the back of his head and Peter kept his eyes glued to whatever expression Johnny had on his face. He couldn’t figure it out.

“Well,” As he spoke again, his voice was quieter, “My sister’s boyfriend- he has loads of cassettes that he doesn’t use anymore. Would it be okay if....if I brought them to your place tomorrow? So you could look through them? See if there’s any you like? I don’t know- it could be fun! If you’re busy that’s cool too it’s no-“

First it was Johnny at his arcade, second it was Johnny at his school, and now it would be Johnny at his house? In his room. Peter should say no. Wouldn’t it be awkward? What would they talk about? This was a bad idea and Peter was destined for disaster and embarrassment.

Peter cut him off and found himself saying, “No that’s cool! Thanks that sounds- I could use new music to listen to.” Peter fiddled with the headphone chord. Too late to change his mind.

Through the trees Peter could see his house was only about a minute away and soon enough Johnny would have to turn around and return to the Baxter building. As much as Peter had been relieved that he hadn’t seen him all day, now he wished he had lived a bit further down just so he and Johnny could continue speaking to each other for a few seconds more.

“Really?” Johnny asked and there was disbelief in his voice, as if he expected Peter to say no. And what gave him that impression? Was it because Peter had ran away from him in terror a few times?

“Yeah we uh- my house is just up there so you could come around maybe two?” He asked.

Peter was reminded that tomorrow was Saturday, another thing that bothered him. Why did they even go to school today just to have another two days off? Peter shook his head. That wasn’t important right now. Johnny Storm was coming to his house. Tomorrow.  _ Johnny Storm. _

“That’s perfect! Listen if-“ Johnny reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pen, “If anything last minute comes up- and you have to do something else, here’s the number to my landline.”

Now Johnny seemed to be the flustered one as he had reached out and delicately grabbed Peter’s hand into his own. Peter’s face had heated up and as Johnny’s fingers kept brushing his knuckles he shifted his weight onto the other foot. He felt butterflies in his stomach and as much as he wanted to cherish this moment- Johnny cradling Peter’s hand softly in his own- there was always the arising sense of fear bubbling up inside him. 

Even though the sidewalks were empty, there was always the chance that someone could pop out form behind a tree or open their front door and see two men- one of them being a Fantastic Four member- holding hands and standing so close that the tips of their shoes almost touched.

“Here.” Johnny turned his own arm over. “Write your number down too.”

“I-okay.”

Grabbing the pen, Peter scrawled his number onto Johnny’s wrist, and they were so close to each other Peter didn’t have the courage to look up at Johnny as he wrote the last digit. Instead, he shoved the pen back in Johnny’s palm and stepped back a few feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Johnny asked.

“At two.” Peter reminded him.

“Good. Well- I’ll see you then.” Johnny was still smiling and Peter wasn’t sure how that was possible- how he could look so happy for such a long period of time and how his lips could be turned up that long without starting to look creepy.

Johnny cleared his throat, “I’m going now. But- you know uh- tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow.” Peter confirmed.

Peter never felt more scared and enthusiastic as he watched Johnny turn his back to him and the opposite direction into the city.

Peter had to be in a movie. Everything that just happened- from encountering him at the arcade to standing in the middle of the sidewalk as Johnny held Peter’s hand- it didn’t seem real. It was like- Peter was in Sixteen Candles. Minus Molly Ringwald and the racism. It wasn’t Peter’s sixteenth birthday either....okay, so maybe it wasn’t like Sixteen Candles- but the John Hughes vibe in the air was still apparent.

“Enough with the John Hughes talk.” Peter mumbled to himself and he looked down and kicked a small rock off the sidewalk and into the road.

He wondered if Johnny had turned back to watch Peter walk away. 


	2. Here Comes the Sun

_Today's another day to find you  
Shying away_  
_I’ll be coming for your love, okay?_

_August 17th, 1985  
1:07 PM_

Aunt May hadn't been home after Johnny and Peter decided to meet up the next day. She must have been working an extra shift. Peter was disappointed when he walked in and she was nowhere to be seen. He had to talk to someone about what had just happened- maybe ask her to give him a bit of advice? But she wasn't, so he had to go to bed that night with a million worries and what-if scenarios floating around inside his head. 

The next morning he woke up early. Although Johnny wasn’t to arrive until 2PM, Peter had some serious renovating to do. Looking around his room, he still had old childhood toys on his desk and on the shelves that littered his wall. Above his bed were a few of his favorite toys that were released when he was a kid. He grabbed his Stretch Armstrong and Magna Doodle and placed them in a box in his closet. Looking at the items that were placed on his dresser, he swiped the weebles into his drawer. 

“Looks like you’re finally cleaning your room.” Peter turned around to see May standing in the doorway, arms crossed and confusion written on her face.

“I’d say MJ was coming over but you never clean for her. What’s the occasion?” She asked.

Peter wasn’t sure how to answer. She’d see him when Peter had to let him inside. She’d see him enter his room. So what was the use of lying? It’s not like she would embarrass him too bad. 

“I have someone coming over.” Peter said, looking around at his room to see if there was anything missing. His posters were straight, his bed was made, the floor was clean. He was overthinking everything too much. 

“A friend,” She stepped inside his room, “A  _ new _ friend?!” 

“Well I wouldn’t say he’s my fri-“

“Where’d you meet him? School! Tell me everything!” And before he knew it, May was making herself comfortable on his bed...the bed he had just finished tidying up.

“It’s complicated.” Peter winced. Where would he even start? 

May didn’t say anything. She was waiting. 

“Okay so.....” Peter could feel himself start to sweat. 

“Well, we actually met at an arcade. He started talking to me and.....he offered to walk me home but I-“

“Does he like you?!” May’s eyes widened.

At least Peter didn’t have to spare his Aunt  those details. He had talked to his Aunt and Uncle about his attraction to other boys as early as eleven years old. They took it well. There was no screaming or disappointing glares which had surprised Peter at the time. He might have been only a child, but he heard what the adults had been whispering about. He would also hear the other kids in class make jokes that had confused him at the time. And also, it was 1979. It was all anyone would talk about and all the newspapers would write about: The White Night Riots. Peter didn’t understand what everyone was fighting about. He heard the names Dan White and Harvey Milk followed by some words that had always made Peter’s stomach ache. One night, when they were all sitting at the dinner table, Peter finally worked up the courage to ask them about it. At first, they just stared. Peter had guessed they didn’t know what to say. They probably hadn’t even expected him to ask something like that.

When they had finished explaining everything, why police cars were being set on fire, why the men and women were crying in the street, Peter had asked: _Was he gonna get hurt too_?

The realization hit them as soon as the words had left the child’s mouth. They had both looked at each other with concern in their eyes. Peter had wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut. They both took turns explaining why he would be safe with them. The conversation also turned to something else far more serious. Peter was told that it would be better for him to keep it just to himself. Peter had already known that, but hearing it from his own Aunt and Uncle felt different. Was it that bad?

“No, I don’t think so. He’s not like that, I’m sure of it.” Peter had responded.

May raised her eyebrow. “Well how do you know? Just because he doesn’t have a pink triangle tattooed on his wrist or a man wrapped around his shoulder doesn’t mean he’s not like you.”

“Trust me he’s just-not.”

“Okay okay....so, am I getting a name?” 

And that was the part he was dreading the most.

_A name_.

“Promise me you won’t freak out.” Peter clasped his hands together, shaking them in front of him.

“Why would I-“ She looked even more befuddled than she had before.

“Just....promise?” He asked.

“Alright I promise. Now spill it.” May said.

He swallowed. “Johnny Storm.”

She jumped to her feet. “ _Johnny Storm_?! Okay so- one of the members of the Fantastic Four asked to walk  my  _nephew_ home?! Okay, finish the story! I’m waiting.”

So much for that promise.

“So he wanted to walk me home. I said no, I left, and then he was in class the other day. At the end of the day, he snuck up on me, walked me home and asked if I wanted some used cassettes. And now he’ll be here in an hour.”

“Well.” May seemed to have calmed herself down. She had placed both hands on her thighs and seemed to think for a moment. 

“I am going to go into the city. And I’ll be back around four.” She stood up and was about to make her way out the door before Peter grabbed her shoulder.

“You’re leaving?!” He exclaimed.

Ideally, the thought of his aunt not being in the house seemed like a good idea. On the other hand, if Johnny knew they were the only two in the house would that send off weird signals?

“I have errands to run anyway. Since you think I’m abandoning you-“ She emphasized, noticing the look of mortification in his eyes, “I will bring you back one of those coffees.”

She grabbed the doorknob. “ _ With _ caffeine. I know how much you enjoy staying up all night.” And with that she closed the door.

Peter was left standing in the middle of his room. Peter was left alone.

Again.

Peter threw himself onto the bed with anguish. 

Keeping himself busy that morning had helped, but ever since he woke up he felt sick to his stomach. For one, it didn’t help that he stopped taking his medication. Not on purpose. The thing was- he took it with him sometimes on his late night patrols. One night, heading home, he realized it wasn’t on him anymore. He spent two hours searching for the container. If anyone had seen the bottle fall from Spider-Man- his name was on it. His real identity would’ve been revealed.

He never found it. Either it ended up sitting on the street somewhere, someone picked it up, or someone out there knew Spider-Man’s true identity. Nothing ever came out of it anyway, but he had still found himself chewing his bottom lip, recollecting that night.

It was medication for his anxiety.

He found himself needing something after his uncle died a few years back. His aunt also decided to try a few different medications but after a year she didn’t need them anymore.

Peter was a different story. The drastic change from living with his aunt and Uncle and simply going to school- and then going to a life without an uncle, building financial problems, and the fucking spider that bit the back of his hand was too much for him to handle all on his own.

Long story short, he lost the medication. And it would be another week or so before he felt comfortable asking his Aunt for a refill without her prying too much or asking him any questions.

He could feel a stress headache coming on too - which had ways ruined his day. He would usually draw the curtains closed and sit in the dark all day but he still made himself get out and go on patrol. The thing in his mind that always said “if you skip one night someone’s gonna die and it’ll be your fault.” was becoming more irritating as the days went on and even if he was on his deathbed that thought would be clawing at the inside of his brain.

Really, it wasn’t healthy, the way his mind always convinced him the worst would happen if he happened to stay in to watch a movie or go out to dinner with MJ. The sense of impending doom always leering in the background.

And because of that- because of the anxious feeling always sitting in his chest and the thoughts of destruction and crimson- he was losing touch with the things he cared about.

Peter was sleeping a lot more too. Peering over at his desk, his camera and the film setting beside it had been untouched for weeks.

What he loved- the hobbies he would pursue and the connections he used to have were seeming to vanish little by little.

It’s not like he was busy every hour of the day. He had the time to take a few pictures or sketch in between the lines or call MJ. The issue was that the motivation for those things appeared to be long gone. And he would’ve done anything to gain that back. To feel the way he did a year prior. Although he felt adrenaline and the sense of euphoria every single night of his life, he found himself more upset every time he’d wake up. Sometimes he couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed. The lack of motivation and the fact that he rarely slept were both factors for that.

The pills had helped. And he felt the withdrawals. He remembered the doctor telling him that you would definitely notice it if you missed a day in between or if you didn’t take them for two days at a time. You had to ween off of them. Take a half a pill for the next few days- cut the pill even smaller and then eventually stop taking them altogether. Unfortunately, Peter didn’t have the chance to do that.

It hit him the very next night. He was sweating like mad and not because it was hot outside- but because whenever he felt extremely anxious or felt like something inevitable was about to occur he’d start sweating. There were also the butterflies in his stomach. Their wings repeatedly hitting his ribcage - his heart falling and never hitting the botto-

Peter shot out of bed.

The doorbell rang.

He swung his door open and stood in the doorway before turning around and almost slipping while rushing into his bathroom. He stepped in front of the mirror and paused.

Peter looked back at himself. Tousled brown hair and light brown skin and another stupid band t-shirt he got from the thrift store.

He took a deep breath in hopes of calming himself down. The breathing exercises never helped anyway. 

Making his way out of his room and toward the front of his house, he opened the door to see Johnny standing there.

“Hey!” He exclaimed.

In his arms was a huge cardboard box stacked to the top with cassette tapes and even a player shoved in there too. That day the outfit he was wearing put Peter to shame. A black button up shirt with a black jean jacket and striped white slacks. Peter wanted to push Johnny off his front porch and slam the door. He was no good making small talk or meeting new people. That’s why MJ was his only friend. Besides Harry. But that was complicated. Plus, they never wanted to talk to each other anymore.

“Hi.” He answered back meekly.

Johnny lifted the box as a way to tell him that,  _ hey this box is kinda heavy. Gonna let me in? _

“Oh- sorry!” Peter said louder than he had intended.

Johnny slid past him and into the house. “No worries. Where should I-?”

“In that room there is fine.” He pointed to his own room. Should they have just stayed in the living room? Or the kitchen? But then again, what was the point of him cleaning out his room then?

Johnny sat the box on the floor and stood there awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets. Peter, although reluctantly, followed suit and decided to sit cross-legged on the floor. Johnny did as well.

Peter grabbed the box and moved it closer to his own body so he could start looking through all of the tapes.

Silence.

Peter raised his eyebrows and dared to make eye contact with Johnny.

“This is awkward.” Peter deadpanned, eliciting laughter from Johnny and causing Peter’s heart to start racing.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Johnny agreed.

Peter played with a loose thread on his jeans before his face lit up with an idea.

“Hold on.” He then stood up and grabbed the portable turntable from his school desk and brought it down on the floor with them. Plugging it in to the nearest outlet, he reached under his bed and grabbed a worn blue box.

Opening it, Johnny saw at least thirty records.

Peter decided to jump right into his explanation he started threading together in his mind when he picked up the turntable.

“Just in case, I didn’t buy any of these. Like I said, I can’t afford a lot of cassettes or records. My Uncle had given me to these.” Records were then being placed onto the carpet.

“No. I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Johnny stammered, “Cool turntable though. I don’t have one anymore.”

“Thought some music might fill in the uncomfortable silence.” Peter told him.

Johnny smiled.

“I don’t know if you like _The Beatles_ but those are all the records I have.” _Abbey Road_ was being removed from its sleeve and handled with care.

“I’ve heard some of their music! My sister loves Revolution but I can’t name a lot of their stuff. You seem to be a fan though.” Johnny emphasized that by leaning over and looking into the box. 

“My Uncle got me into them. This,” Peter held up Abbey Road, “He got it on the first day it was released. Told me that story a million times. Said ‘I swear to you I almost saw George Harrison!’ but he was definitely full of shit.”

Johnny was smiling and so was Peter. Peter looked fondly down at the album. Surprisingly, after that, Johnny didn’t ask him anything more about Peter’s uncle. He expected the “what’s your uncle do?” or “where is he now?” but it had never came. Peter was somewhat relieved.

“This album is gonna blow your mind.” Peter placed the needle delicately on the record and turned the volume down slightly.

_ Track 1: Come Together _

Continuing, “It’s not my favorite album but I think it’s good for starters. Plus- this record always cuts out during Sun King.”

“But what kind of music do you like?” Peter asked.

Johnny leaned back on his hands. “That’s a toughie. _Bowie_ is awesome. So is _Huey Lewis & The News_\- oh god- _Hip To Be Square_ is-!” A full faced smile. He was enjoying himself.

“Oh yeah! That’s a really good song!” After that Peter looked at the box Johnny had brought over and felt stupid. Cheeks heating up, he failed to remember that the other boy had come over here for a specific reason. The cassettes. 

“Alright let me have a look.”

He began rifling through the cassettes and observed them. A lot were from the early 70s but Peter didn’t mind. 70s music was incredible. He drew the line at very early 60s groups. ( _The Beatles_ did not count.)

“This first track is really good.” Johnny commented.

_ Got to be good looking cause he’s so hard to see. _

“I bet you were pretty upset when Lennon died, huh?” Johnny asked.

The one question no one should dare to ask him. Well, it was too late. And he was about to go on one of his famous rants that made everyone in his life so irritated by him. (Mr. Jameson, his classmates, the guy at the newspaper stand. You name it.)

“Not really. He was a pretty shitty person.” Peter put a cassette by his knee. 

Johnny had been very taken back by this. Looking at him, it seemed as if he had never heard anything negative about Lennon. Peter repressed a grin. As annoying (and maybe shitty) as it was, Peter loved telling unaware people about how much of an asshole the former Beatle member was.

“Oh? How so?” Johnny asked, sounding unsure.

“Well for one he abused both of his wives. Also the abuse toward his son. Pretty racist too and also mocked Epstein for being homosexual. Kinda continued stealing things from all black groups and profited off of it because he was white. Just a few things.“

“Wow. I had no clue. No one ever says anything.” Johnny commented.

“That’s because they either know and don’t care or because they actually have no clue. People like to praise him so much because of what he contributed to the band- the best Beatle- peace activist whatever- its all bullshit.”

_ Track 2: Something _

“The rest of them though? They were good people?” Johnny asked.

“I’m pretty sure. And hey- I still listen to some of the tracks John wrote and I admit he did help with the band’s success it’s just- the people that continue to love him.... it’s stupid.” Peter had four cassettes stacked next to him.

“Any good albums yet?” Johnny was trying to see which tapes Peter had picked out.

“Yeah! Thanks again, by the way. You didn’t have to.”

“It was my pleasure. Really.” Johnny said. “I might’ve liked some of these but I haven’t been listening to a lot lately. It’s hard to find new music when you’re just... comfortable with what you’re already listening to.

Peter hummed in agreement. “I get that!”

“There’s a lot of good stuff on MTV though! Have you seen any of those videos?” Johnny asked.

“No,” He replied, “I don’t have MTV or anything like that.” Peter turned over a cassette in his hand and looked at the track-list.

Peter sensed Johnny didn’t know how to respond to that.

“But- since you’re having such... trouble finding new music... I could make you a mixtape? If you wanted?”

Peter had said it before he realized what was coming out of his mouth. He never even made a mixtape before. He’d have to ask May but he’s not sure she ever had either. Plus, it was only something kids his age did so it was likely that his aunt wouldn’t even know where to start. Peter just hoped there would be a book at the library on how to actually make one. MJ was also someone who might know how. She seemed like the person who made some for her co-workers or close model friends. Given that, Peter wouldn’t bother asking her anyway. She was far too busy to help Peter create a mixtape for some boy that wasn’t even interested.

On the other hand, in the back of his mind, there was something that made him feel that Johnny  was interested. Maybe he was one of those guys who wanted to try it out - maybe he was curious but didn’t actually want to be with a guy.

Peter had met one or two guys like that and it had always ended badly. They never kissed or were affectionate. It was mostly the other guy figuring out his own personal shit while Peter was on the bench. That was when he was about fourteen. Eventually, Peter had grown tired of being the center of a questionable gay person/insecure straight person and decided to stop going out with guys altogether. Plus, the risk of getting the shit beaten out of him on the street. Of course he would be able to handle something like that. Yet super strength did not help the emotional turmoil he’d get if he ever did get the snot kicked out of him for holding hands with some guy.

Besides, he never met any guy that was worth getting his arm broken over. Peter assumed that every nice gay guy was probably closeted and the rest of them were too much for him to handle. 

Those were the gay guys that were out and proud and had the pins on their jean jackets and everything.

Peter was nowhere near ready to be _that_ proud.

Even if Johnny was gay... what type of person would he be? The shy closeted one, the proud one, or the one who pretended to be something he wasn’t?

“I’d love that!” Exclaimed Johnny. Peter was thrown back into reality. The reality where Johnny Storm in his black and white outfit was sitting only a few feet away and smiling so brightly that Peter felt his hands started to sweat.

_Track 4: Oh! Darling_

“Cool.” Trying to sound nonchalant.

The next minute or so Peter tried to focus his attention on the cassettes:  that’s what Johnny was here for so stop forgetting!

The music filled in the silence.

_ I’ll never let you go. Oh believe me, darling!  _

While Peter kept rifling through the box he peered up at Johnny, who had stood up and was observing the items Peter kept on his shelves and desk and bedside table.

Peter had become hyper-aware of anything he forgot to clean up. The desk had pencil smudges everywhere and some of his books had water stains and fuck-  _ the lint on the bed _ . Eyes darting under his desk, it seemed he had also forgotten to take the trash out. Peter felt a headache spurring on. 

Turning his attention back to the box, he decided to dig to the very bottom and much to his surprise, there was a cassette he had desperately wanted waiting for him under a _Judas Priest_ album.

_ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club _ . His favorite album by  _ The Beatles _ . Every song on the album meant the world to him. Johnny seemed to have sensed the halt of the cassettes hitting against each other and he turned to look at Peter.

Peter’s eyes were shining with joy as he stared at the tape in his hands.

“You find something?” Johnny asked and stepped forward.

Peter simply held the cassette up so Johnny could look at it.

“Hey! What are the odds! I didn’t even know Reed listened to them.” Johnny’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s my favorite album.” Peter replied. And once he started he couldn’t stop. “My Uncle used to sing to me  _ When I’m Sixty Four _ . He’d swing me around the living room with that song playing in the background. I’d say ‘play it again!’ and we’d listen to it so much that my aunt walked out of the house and didn’t come back inside until we switched to a new song.” Peter huffed out a laugh. “And _A Day In The Life_. Fuck Lennon-“ Johnny laughed at this, “But that song was my childhood. There’s a part in the song where it gets all- ominous and loud and it scared the shit out of me. But I adored it.”

He never told anyone that story. 

His throat suddenly felt tight and he shut his mouth. If he even thought about it for another second he knew it would result in him crying in front of the other boy.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t listened to _A Day In The Life_ in years. After his uncle passed, all the lyrics from that song reminded him of his death. It was like the song fucking foreshadowed what would happen and it pissed him off. Every line, every chord, it was like his uncle was dying all over again.

_ I read the news today, oh boy  
_ _ About a lucky man who made the grade  
_ _ And thought the news was rather sad  _ _ Well, I just had to laugh  
_ _ I saw the photograph  
_ _He blew his mind out in a car  
_ _He didn’t notice that the lights had changed  
_ _A crowd of people stood and stare  
_ _ They’d seen his face before  
_ _Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords._

The question came in a matter of seconds. “Where is he now?” 

Peter paused. Not today. “I’ll tell you some other time.” And Peter gave him a small smile before placing Sgt. Pepper’s on his bed.

It was silent again. Peter seemed to have mad the awkwardness even worse. He wanted to groan. 

_Track 5: Octopus’s Garden_

Johnny turned his back to Peter and continued his task of observing everything Peter possessed.

In the moment that followed, with Johnny’s back turned and Peter holding back the tears threatening to spill, Peter picked out three other tapes. Nothing as special as Sgt Pepper’s- hell, nothing would probably top that, but at least they were by artists he had heard people at school talking about.

When Peter lifted his head, Johnny was already flipping through one of Peter’s sketch books before Peter could yelp or harshly tell him that it was private.

“You’re really good at this.” 

Peter didn’t sketch anything seriously anymore. What got him into art was designing his Spider-Man suit. Lack of motivation was a silent killer and all Peter did recently was sketch doodles in his textbooks or on napkins while waiting for his take-out order.

“It’s just a hobby.” Peter said softly. 

The sketchbook was probably about five months old and the second half was blank pages yet to be filled out.

Most of the drawings were of people made up in his mind. There were a lot of hands on the pages too because he could never really get the fingers right. He would go back and revisit some of the faces he had drawn to add color or weird patterns in the face.

Peter almost sighed a breath of relief when Johnny shut the book and placed it back in its original spot on his desk. Moving along, Johnny stood in front of Peter’s windowsill.

“See, that’s where I recognized your name first.” Johnny was holding Peter’s camera with care. His grip not too hard yet he wasn’t holding it like a caterpillar that he had to keep at arms length.

“Photographed by Peter Parker. It’s under most of the pictures in The Bugle.”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you read it.”

“I don’t,” Johnny put the camera strap around his neck, “I think Ben was subscribed to it before it became garbage so it still ends up at our place every Sunday.”

“The job though. Is it good?” Johnny asked. He was messing with the lens now and was looking through the viewfinder. Peter had hoped Johnny wouldn’t be able to figure out how to take a picture. He couldn’t afford wasting film. 

“They pay basically nothing. But it’s something right?” To that Johnny hummed in agreement.

“I love photography too so.... my boss shouting at me and the weak salary doesn’t seem all that bad.” Peter said playfully.

Johnny, like Peter had initially thought, did not know how to take a picture. It was set on locked anyway. Placing it back onto the windowsill, Johnny made his way back onto the floor and looked at Peter.

_ Track 6: I Want You (She’s So Heavy) _

Peter’s eyes lit up and he reached over to turn the volume up just a tad. “This is the best song off the album!”

The song was just the same lyrics over and over.  _ I want you so bad _ . The end of the song is what got him. The intense music- the increase in volume. The yelling in the background. Goosebumps appeared every time he had listened to that song.

“So.” Johnny said and then reached into the box to scan one of the tapes.

Suddenly, Johnny lowered his eyes and looked at the tape. He didn’t even seem interested in it. It was just something to hold on. The tape in the palm of his hand was used for comfort. Comforting him from what, Peter did not know.

He continued. “That whole bit at the start. John Lennon and all - you care about that stuff?” 

The question surprised him. It wasn’t said in a condescending way. Johnny didn’t mean it in the way that would tear down Peter’s interests and downplay the importance of it. Still, Peter was caught off guard.

“Like- what stuff?” He asked.

He already knew the answer.

“Um… like….Sorry, I’m trying to word this right.” In that moment Johnny’s demeanor and attitude seemed to change. From someone who could roam around in a stranger’s room so casually, Peter had been curious as to why it was so hard for him to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue.

Johnny blinked and ran his hand through his hair, “Human rights. That’s what they call it, right? Black rights, womens rights, the whole lot.”

“Well of course. I don’t know if you could tell but I’m not white.” Peter meant it as a joke but Johnny seemed to panic even more.

“No- I know! Sorry!” Hands in his lap, he was focusing on his cuticles.

“Hey,” Peter leaned forward, “I’m messing with you.”

Peter decided not to torture him any longer and give him the answer he was seeking. Yes, this would result in Peter overtalking and possibly scaring Johnny away. But May had always said that his political opinions overpowered anything else. If Johnny became overwhelmed- then so be it.

“But, yeah. I care a lot about all that stuff. Partly because my aunt used to be a hippie. I started looking into a lot of stuff though and it’s just- I think it’s extremely important to get into politics. Because human rights are always at the center of politics whether we like it or not. We have no choice. And there’s still all this racism and all these stereotypes that need to be changed. Or left behind, I mean.”

Peter paused. “Hold on.”

Lifting himself off of the floor, he walked to the opposite side of the room and opened his closet. Lifting a box filled with folders from under a few winter blankets, he carried it back and put it in front of Johnny. Peter sat down.

Taking a file out, he opened it up and handed it to Johnny.

“My Aunt kept all of these. I kept all of the ones dealing with,” He paused, “Gay rights.” 

There were newspapers. Hundreds of them. His Aunt gave them to him when he was fourteen years old. He had learned so much about his own history that weekend which put him in shock, caused him to cry, and then left him contemplating his own life that whole night.

“That one right there,” Peter jabbed his finger at the headline, “It still pisses me off. The name Anita Bryant always ruins my mood.”

The headline read ‘ _Gay Rights, Yes, but one qualification_.’

“Gays only have themselves to blame.” Peter read aloud. “A load of fucking bullshit.”

Johnny kept silent. Peter didn’t know how to respond to that. If it was silence from shock or disgust- or if he just had no idea how to respond. Blinking, Peter decided to continue.

He never thought of the possibility of Johnny possibly being anti-gay. It didn’t even seem like a possibility. Johnny was so...

Okay, he didn’t actually have a reason that lead him to believe Johnny supported gay people. Peter had hoped Johnny wasn’t disgusted by them. This had lead him to another question; if he did hate gay people, why did he ask Peter to go dance with him? Two guys dancing together would make people automatically assume that they were gay and in a relationship... that had to mean something.

Even if Johnny was, even if this turned into an argument or if Johnny stood up and grabbed his Sgt Pepper’s tape and stormed out the door, Peter would not stop talking. Talking about that topic was important to him- it meant the entire world to him when he was able to speak up about stuff like that and people would actually listen. And even if it didn’t, he still got a few words in. Sometimes he hoped those close minded people would go home and think about it before they went to bed. Did they ever question their own opinions?

“And this one.” Peter pushed it into Johnny’s hand. “Look at the headline. ‘ _Homo Nest Raided, Queen Bees Are Stinging Mad_.’ Are you kidding me?!” Peter’s voice was getting significantly louder.

“The first violent protest in gay history and they mock us in the headline! That was in 69’ and they still say that shit about us. Constantly, there’s never a break! Even the fucking Bugle rights about it. It’s ridiculous that we even have to talk about this stuff, or that I even have the goddamn newspaper clippings. People just hate whatever is different from them. Fuck that. And with this whole cursed epidemic do you think they’re gonna let up anytime soon? Gives them more of a reason to call us unnatural or cancerous. Twenty more years we’ll have to deal with that shit. If we even make it into the new millennium.” Peter huffed.

Another problem his aunt had pointed out: Peter got too worked up about things. It was very easy to make him angry when someone brought up a topic that he was very passionate about and while he was fuming with rage, it also gave him a shot of adrenaline that actually caused him to seek argument. He had to be cautious, obviously, in fear that he might out himself to s-

“Us?” Johnny asked. He was staring into his eyes.

_**Oh fuck.**_

“You’re- are you...?” Johnny asked.

While Peter was slowly figuring out a way to somehow kill himself with the turntable behind him continuing to play _I Want You (She’s So Heavy)_ there was no judgment in Johnny’s eyes. Surprise, sure. Disgust was nowhere to be seen.

“I-I’m.... well-“

His mind was racing. Shaking hands and dry mouth and acid bubbling inside his body. Telling the truth could end in a few million different ways. Overthinking was Peter’s speciality but with something like this he felt like he was justified for thinking too much. 

“I’m...,” Peter swallowed, “I like both. Like- I like girls too.”

Peter blinked. Say something for god-sake. Johnny opened his mouth and closed it. He was about to say something. Whatever it was would define their entire relationship. No matter how beautiful Johnny was- Peter could not be around someone who thought homosexuality was something dirty and sinful. He wouldn’t do that to himself again.

“Cool.” That was it?! Peter felt like punching something. Or someone. Before Peter could (or even if he wanted to) express his rage, Johnny was saying something else.

“Me too. I- I like both. I don’t really mind whether they’re a guy or girl I- It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t pay much attention to it really.”

The word ‘shock’ was an understatement. It was the last thing he expected to fall out of Johnny’s mouth.

Peter didn’t know what to say. Instead, and all at once, he became extremely aware of how close Johnny was sitting next to him. The ceiling fan. Johnny’s lips and the same song still playing in the background. The longest on the album: 7 minutes and 47 seconds. The song was toward the end- where Paul was no longer singing. The same chords over and over. Louder and louder.

Johnny was shifting and leaning forward.

Dm Dm/F E7b9 C5 B5 Bb7 Aaug and repeat.

Static.

Heart in his throat. The record spinning and the clock ticking. A hand gently cupping Peter’s cheek and Peter wanted to close his eyes-

A thumb swiping across his cheek. White paper on brown skin. Eyelashes fluttering closed.

The record growing louder. He could sense the song was about to end. His head was pounding. Johnny still leaning.

Sudden silence. Like someone in a crowded room making the split second decision to put in ear plugs and block everything out. The song cut so unexpectedly that the first time Peter had listened to it, he thought that the record had been broken. A snap of fingers- just like that- and the song was done.

The first few chords of the next song. Peter jerked backwards.

_Track 7: Here Comes The Sun_

Peter cleared his throat and turned around, lifting the needle off Abbey Road. 

“Fucking hate that song.” He coughed awkwardly. That was the truth by the way. Here Comes The Sun was a song that angered him in more ways than one. Someone would ask him and he would have no reason for it. He just hated the song.

The air between them was, once again, uncomfortable. 

Peter made a mistake.

In a split second, like a flash of white hot light, Johnny was on his feet and adjusting his jacket.

This time the look on his face was so easy to decipher it made his eyes start to water. Johnny’s eyes and lips and the crease in his forehead told him that Johnny wanted to get out of Peter’s room as soon as he could.

“Johnny I-” Peter wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

“No, it’s okay. Listen I better go. Keep the box you h- you didn’t look through all of them yet.” Johnny made his way over to the doorway.

“Johnny.” Peter said once more, this time sounding apologetic.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you at school.” And Johnny shut the door behind him.

Peter sat there by himself for ten minutes, not having it in him to move. Not finding the power to even crawl into bed or clean up the tapes or put his turntable back to where it belonged.

Looking back onto the events that had just occurred was confusing and messy and it just hurt.

He hadn’t the first clue as to why he didn’t kiss Johnny. Or let Johnny kiss him. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

For one, it was possible that his sub-conscience said that there was no way in hell that he was having his first real kiss to Here Comes The Sun. Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered. If that was his only chance to kiss Johnny fucking Storm and he passed it up because the song wasn’t right?

He focused on the tapes littered around his feet.

Peter always had the gay people he met put under certain categories. The shy closeted one, the questioning experimental one, the out and proud one, and finally the one who would supress their true feelings until they died. Peter never took the time or even found it important to ask himself the most important question of all:

Which one was he?

He was closeted, sure. Those types of guys usually would come out eventually. And he was not questioning or experimenting. He already knew what he was. He wasn’t even close to being the out and proud one. Those guys wore the liberation pins and carried the banners and talked the way they wanted and kissed  who they wanted during any day at any time. That only left the last one.

Peter had no clue if he would ever be able to be ‘out and proud’. He wanted to be. That was one of the few wishes he had. To feel comfortable in his own skin. To stop being so terrified of everything. Marching in the parades and participating in protests and pushing to make real and beautiful change. He wanted that the most. To at least push forward the community. With the epidemic in the world right no, he could help, couldn’t he?

And yes, he talked about it, he wanted to fight for it, and there were even those dreams he had where he set cop cars ablaze (maybe a little too extreme) but there were also those times where he had no one but the thoughts and himself. Those questions he couldn’t get rid of even when he was close to tears and tearing up his mattress. 

_You might actually be sick, ya know.  
If you were normal, why would any of this even be happening?  
You don’t believe in God but you fear eternal damnation.  
There’s something wrong with you and you know it._

_Number 4: Suppressed Until Death._

Peter scratched his cheek and almost reached for the bottle under his pillow before he realized.

He needed to go punch someone. 

_August 17th, 1985  
10:37PM_

Sitting on his favorite roof.

He found a guy earlier who was trying to steal plates from a few cars in a parking lot and he threw a few punches at him. Then only a half hour later there was someone causing a fuss at a deli restaurant and he tried to escort him out. A much more simpler task compared to his others but he still walked out of there with a busted lip. He was off his game. Any other day a guy like that wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near Peter. 

He was about to go home. He needed to put some ice on his face and treat it before he woke up in the morning with blood smeared all over his pillow. That happened more than it should have. 

After Johnny made his dramatic exit and Peter had his first crisis of the day, he bitterly chose to go through the rest of the tapes. 

Unexpectedly, he had found another Beatles tape. It was their _Help!_ album, released in 1965.

Resting at the edge of the building, feet swinging back and forth,  _ Yesterday _ playing in his ears.

Peter loved that song. Even so, that night the lyrics were causing him to feel unsettled.

__Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay  
_Oh, I believe in yesterday_

The world was absolutely fucking with him today.

He wondered if May was home. It was nothing new anyway; her coming home and him being out until midnight. He usually made up some sort of excuse. Taking photographs, meeting up with someone for school, going to thrift shops. Whatever he could come up with. 

Peter sucked in his lip. Coffee was waiting at home for him surely. Peter had decided he wanted to leave.

Standing up, he adjusted his cassette player and-

A hand on his shoulder. 

Peter fell off the roof. 

His headphones fell onto his neck and he caught the ledge with his hand before he fell. Not that he would’ve died anyway, but seeing whoever scared him so much that he fell off a goddamn roof would leave him satisfied. 

“Sorry dude. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

_ Oh, come on._

Was this his life now? Meeting Johnny, expecting not to see him again for what, a few days at least? Two hours later and he was right back to where he was prior. Looking at Johnny’s beautiful eyes and stupid hair and the same evil butterflies spitting fire and blood up his throat. And Johnny was wearing his fantastic four suit and the moon was shining on the right side of his face and-

Yeah. The world was definitely messing with him as if he was a fucking rag doll. 

Peter tried to burn it into his memory: that moment was the first time that he and Johnny had met. Spider-Man and The Human Torch had never met. And they most definitely had never almost kissed either. Nope. They were total strangers. For tonight at least. 

“No it’s fine. It’s not like you almost sent me falling to my death or anything.” He quipped. The mask allowed him to say anything. To be confident and joke around and laugh at whatever he wanted to laugh at. It helped. 

“What’re you listening to, hm?” And Johnny was grabbing the headphones from around his neck and then placing them on his own head. He paused and tapped his foot to the beat. He slid them down his neck after a few seconds.

“Is that The Beatles?” Johnny asked.

_ Fuck. _

“Ya know, I have a friend who loves them. A total fanatic.” Johnny was holding the headphones out for Peter to take back.

_ Fuck. _

“You a fan too?” Johnny asked. He gestured for Peter to sit back down. Peter did- reluctantly. Following suit, Johnny sat right next to him. Peter steered his attention toward his fingernails.

“Hm?” Peter asked. Did he just black out for a second?

“The Beatles. You a fan?” Johnny repeated.

Peter became flustered. All at once he noticed that Johnny could probably tell that this voice also belonged to the same nerd he sat with for two hours that very day. That could be what this was all about. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Johnny Storm comforting Spider-Man after all these years on the same day he and Peter almost kissed. Johnny figured it out. That was the only reasonable possibility that they were sitting together at that moment.

“Nope. Never heard of them. Don’t even know wh- Paul something is his name. Gee, I got no clue sorry.” Peter sputtered. 

Johnny laughed and looked at him strangely. “Okay.” 

“My buddy has got a player just like that.” Johnny pointed to the cassette in Peter’s hands. 

This was it. Johnny was about to put two and two together. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for what was about to come.

“We’ve never talked.” Johnny stated. 

Peter was too afraid to reply.

“And I know we don’t know each other. At all. I just saw you over here and- I could use your advice.” Johnny said.

Advice. Peter looked up at him. At least Johnny wasn’t able to see the fear written across his face. Or his face. At all. 

“ _Okay_.” Peter said slowly.

Silence.

“Go ahead.” Peter said.

“What’re... like- how do you feel about... gay people?” Johnny asked.

He stopped breathing. This was going to be a conversation. About today.

What worried Peter the most is that Johnny might confide in him. Tell him things he was too scared to tell Peter earlier. That Johnny would end up spilling the beans about some weird guy at his school that tried to lay one on him.

Peter allowed himself to think. 

_Nothing too wordy. Don’t put too much of your views into it. Something short and simple._

“All power to the people, right?” Is what Peter went with.

Johnny smiled softly. “Geez, you sound like someone from the 70s. How old are you?”

Peter glared at him from under his mask.

“Don’t answer that.” Johnny replied.

As Peter waited for Johnny to continue speaking he looked out onto the city. People were still rushing to wherever they needed to be this late at night. A fancy dinner or a dance recital or some new broadway show with impressive reviews. A woman climbing into a cab and a man leaning against a post office. Stars never visible and the cool night air making Peter feel nostalgic and somehow devastated.

Memories always made him experience grief and heartsick. On top of his many other problems, Peter feared time, death, and his future the most. Looking back onto his childhood or listening to a song he associated November of 79’ with was a sensation all too painful. He hated remembering the past yet it was what consumed his mind the most.

“You can keep secrets?” Johnny broke the silence.

“I have a secret identity. You tell me.” Peter whispered. The sudden urge to stay as quite as possible. Don’t shatter the night.

“Okay.” Johnny was now whispering too. “There’s this guy. I tried to kiss him today and he’s... he’s gay too- he told me. But he pulled back. And I don’t know what means.” Soft spoken.

Voice rising slowly. “And I felt like he was interested in me too. He leaned in too.”

“So what do you want me to say?” Peter asked.

Both staying as quite as possible. They could hear the wind. The cabs honking their horns and people laughing below their feet. 

“Advice. That’s what I asked you.” Johnny said.

“Well.” Peter swallowed.

Peter did like Johnny. He wanted to kiss him. What happened that day he had no reasonable explanation for. Peter wanted to pour his heart out. So he did.

“He has to be into you. You’re Johnny Storm. He could’ve been scared. It’s scary for.... gay people nowadays. It always has been. He could just be.... confused too. And he might not be ready to be public. Kissing a guy in the streets and all that.”

Johnny was looking at him intently. Softly. Interested. Hopeful.

“Go for it. I think you should. You just have to think about all that other stuff when you talk to him. Ask him about it.” Peter was finished.

Johnny smiled at him. “Thanks. Really. That helped.” And Johnny was already standing up.

Peter wanted to feel offended. No chit chat? Just Spideys advice and then adios? Peter hummed.

“Good luck.” Peter shouted over his shoulder and Johnny waved before taking off into the sky. Almost as bright as the sun. The guy he wanted to kiss was made out of fire.

Burnt mouthes and flames up their necks. An iron. A cigarette butt. Would Peter’s hand catch fire when he placed it over Johnny’s heart? 


	3. Rio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a part in here where you can listen to a song during a certain scene and it should stop right where I wrote “stop.” I don’t know if it’ll work out though lol. I also attached the fashion post that refers to Johnny and Peter and also my spotify. From my account you can find both Johnny and Peter’s playlists.

_Take on me  
Take me on  
I'll be gone  
In a day or two_

_ August 18th, 1985  
11:18PM _

The most common way to make a mixtape seemed simple enough. The first rule to remember is that you are not able to make a mixtape with a portable player. If you needed to make a tape for your friend, your mom, a sweetheart (Peter coughed) you’d have to own a dual cassette deck. On the right side of the player there should be a blank cassette. On the left side you set any tape of your choosing. Cue up the tracks on the left side and once you have a song you enjoy it’s time to hit play on the left tape. Finally, you press play and hit record on the right tape. 

The steps in making a tape seemed very easy. The problem was that Peter did not have a dual cassette deck. Or a lot of tapes to work with.

He found the two tapes by _The Beatles_ and a few other tapes that he would try and listen to. He also owned his _Frankie Goes To Hollywood_ which was absolutely necessary when making the tape for Johnny. He had _The Buggles_ tape too and one by _Duran Duran_ but those cassettes weren’t enough to make a whole mixtape.

Peter’s only idea was to go down to the music store that he frequented practically every day (never buying anything). He went about an hour before closing when the store was only occupied by the quiet girl with a star tattoo by the corner of her lip that worked the cashier. He hadn’t known her name but they participated in small talk every once in a while. Even so, Peter knew it wasn’t right to ask this random girl if he could root through the entire store to make a tape. 

She looked up at him when he slapped his hands on the counter, red faced and slightly out of breath.

He said, “Here’s the situation. I need a favor and I know we barely know each other but I am willing to beg on my knees.”

She raised her eyebrow and stopped writing in her notebook. “Okay.”

“I don’t have a dual cassette deck. Or many tapes. Or even a blank tape. And I am broke. But I need to make this tape for my,” Peter paused and then blurted, “Girlfriend! Cause her birthday is coming up and ya know. Love and all that.”

Her face didn’t change. “And? What do you want then?”

At this point, Peter had nothing left to lose. Either she was secretly nice and would agree to help him or she’d reach across the counter and punch him square in the nose.

“I was wondering if you’d- and hear me out before you say anything- let me borrow a blank cassette. And your deck. And some tapes. Enough to record a whole mixtape.”

She kept staring at him. “You have no money?”

“No.” Peter replied.

The girl shut her notebook and tucked her arm under her chin. “So you want to take a bunch of tapes and use our dual deck. For free.”

Peter cringed. “I guess that’s what I’m asking, yes.”

“Get the fuck out of my store.”

Peter expected nothing less.

“Please! Is there anything else you want? Anything?”

“Nope.”

He thought for a moment and then said, “I can get you an autograph from Spider-Man! That cool guy! You know, anti-cop, fuck the system! That cool dude!”

“He’s not as cool as he used to be.” She turned her attention back to what she had been writing earlier.

“Yeah but you could sell it! You could get 200 bucks out of that thing from some Spidey fanatic. That would be more than enough to pay you back for everything I use! Plus, I’m a reliable source! I take all the pictures of him for The Bugle! You can even check!”

“No one reads that paper.” She replied coldly. 

“Fuck,” Peter started to feel frustrated, “I know that! This is a good deal! Please!”

She considered it for a moment and looked him up and down. Peter’s shoulders tensed up. 

“Fine. But I want four signed pictures. And evidence to prove it.” She deadpanned.

“Four pictures means I get to borrow more tapes.” Peter threw back.

“Borrow? Fuck, just take them then. Eight hundred dollars? Buy the whole goddamn dual deck.” 

He didn’t. They needed that for the store and plus, he didn’t really mind photographing himself and signing a few pictures. He also didn’t take any of the tapes for himself either. How would he explain to Johnny where he got twenty new cassettes? Besides, someone else would probably cherish those tapes more than he would. 

She let him sit in there for two hours while he recorded the songs and looked through the new cassettes that came in every week. She said he could even open the newest ones but he had to be extra careful or else his ass would be put on the street.

She even approached him later on and gave him half of her sandwich. Peter liked her. They sat there together eating (as quiet as possible) while Peter recorded Thriller. 

She had fair skin, bangs, a nose piercing, and her nails were painted black. Her name was Nicole and while they sat together she even wrote him a list of songs he should try and listen to.

When he left, he thanked her, and she replied (to his surprise) that he should come back and hang out sometime. He told her that he would return this week with her signed photos. The bell jingled and he was gone.

He held the tape carefully and once he got home (after his nightly patrol) he wrote Johnny’s name across the top. He scribbled a few stars on the sides and then placed it on his desk. Getting under the covers, staring up at the ceiling, he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of Johnny listening to Peter’s music.

_August 19th, 1985  
8:12AM_

When he woke up in the morning, throwing on his white _Elvis Costello_ shirt and his faded jeans, he looked at his player on his desk.

Johnny had saw him with it on the roof the other night. More like he saw  _Spidey_ with it. Peter, fearing that Johnny would come to the conclusion that Peter and Spidey were in fact the same person, chose to (reluctantly) leave his player at home. He threw Johnny’s tape in his backpack (even though he had no clue if he would give it to him that day or if it would even be appropriate).

He had no clue how Johnny would react when they saw each other. He prayed that Johnny wasn’t pissed at him. He even considered the scenario where Johnny straight up ignored him for the rest of his life. But he had told him that he was interested. He heard it from Johnny himself. Peter grabbed his backpack and slammed the door behind him.

When Peter arrived to class that morning, Johnny was already seated. Peter stood in the doorway before taking a deep breath and making his way to his desk (the one right next to Johnny). Peter was relatively early that morning so there was no one else in the classroom except for him, Johnny, and one other guy seated in the very back.

When he sat down and placed his backpack on the floor (wrapping the strap around his ankle) he noticed Johnny glance at him from the corner of his eye before he turned away.

It was three painstakingly minutes later before Johnny spoke to him.

“Why don’t you have your Walkman?” He asked and he asked it so casually- as if nothing happened between them on Saturday. As if they didn’t almost kiss and as if Peter didn’t freak out right in front of him whilst also admitting that he liked guys.

Peter stared at him and then said, “I-I was rushing this morning. Accidentally left it at home.”

Johnny nodded. His foot was bouncing up and down and Peter’s head hurt. He despised this uncomfortable vibe between them. They had a good time the other day, didn’t they? Despite the weird-almost-kiss everything else seemed to have gone swimmingly.

“Okay,” Johnny leaned back into his seat and looked at the chalkboard, “Just wondering.” He had said, quieter. His words fading into thin air. Peter nodded as some sort of confirmation, although at this point Johnny was no longer looking at him. If he was mad all of a sudden or if looking at Peter was too unbearable, Peter didn’t have the answer.

The rest of the students started filling up the classroom. Laughs about what happened over the weekend and shouting over some syllabus they didn’t get signed. Everyone was chattering about something and even though it was still early, they all seemed vibrant. The classroom a blur and Johnny and Peter being the only ones in focus. Arms crossed and secret stares and the exact lines in both of their ears.

_August 19th, 1985  
3:26PM_

Peter made it through the rest of his classes with Johnny barely on his mind. The worry was still biting at the side of his brain but with all of his assignments and different teachers and new faces; it was quite difficult to think about the boy. 

The only thing that upset him was the fact he didn’t see MJ at all that day. Not even a glimpse of bright red hair or the sound of her heels coming down the hallway. 

He exited the school and looked toward the parking lot. Her car was already gone. Peter sighed and reached for his walkman before remembering he had forgotten to bring it. A silent walk home.

“Can I walk you home again?” Said a voice suddenly. Uneasiness and the fear of rejection was laced in his words. 

A dark green button up with a yellow collar and brown pants to match. Johnny didn’t have a smile on his face that time. He was just waiting.

Peter, recalling the morning’s awkward events, couldn’t understand why Johnny wanted to walk him home for a second time. A decently long walk home would be even more awkward than a two minute interaction in school first period.

Assuming walking him home was the goal to wipe away the strange feeling between the two, Peter accepted. After what Johnny had told him (Spider-Man) the other night, he figured this was Johnny’s way of trying to…. Get close to him? Ask him out?

So they walked home together. In silence. And yes, it was even worse than their interaction in the classroom. Neither one of them dared to speak and if any sound was to be made it was their shoes on the sidewalk or a timid cough escaping Johnny’s lips.

Johnny waved him goodbye even though there seemed to be something he had wanted to say or ask. Peter saluted him (he wanted to hit himself after that one) and then returned home.

That’s how it was for the next few days. The same routine of classes and seeking out Mary Jane and then Johnny asking to walk him home again. And again and again and again. 

Nothing asked. Not even a conversation. Just the same:

_Can I walk you home?  
Okay._  
_Goodbye._  
_ See ya.  _

_August 21st, 1985  
9:22PM_

So that’s all that happened. A silent walk home and wanting to to touch Johnny’s hair or the itchto feel his hand or needing the knowledge of what Johnny’s skin felt like.

It was on Thursday when Peter stood on the steps of the school and waited for Johnny. Five minutes late. His lips turned downward and he finally started down the stairs when his shoulder was being grabbed.

“I can’t walk you today. I’m busy.” And Peter could tell he was lying. Bullshit. Just the way he looked at him- the dishonesty in his pupils. Johnny placed a hand on Peter’s back and then rushed past him. Walking the opposite way down the street, Johnny didn’t spare him a glance. 

Peter furrowed his brow. Continuing down the steps, he wondered if that was the end. The end of Johnny walking him home and the end of- whatever was going on between them. Their friendship or possible relationship or whatever the fuck they wanted to be. 

And Peter was still thinking about that interaction at 9:30PM that night. Johnny’s shoulder knocking against his and the sense of being abandoned. 

Before he could mourn further over the possible Peter/Johnny relationship, an ear-ringing crash set off in the distance. Setting up his player, _Duran Duran’s_ 1982 album  _ Rio _ , he pulled down his mask and tried to pinpoint the location of said explosion. 

When Peter arrived on the scene he noticed that the culprit was Moleman. Or maybe not. There was thick charcoal colored smoke everywhere and he could barely see a thing. Whatever, it didn’t really matter who it was. He was practically blind - even waving his hands out in front of him in case he came in contact with a building or another superhero or any form of something that was living. Plus, his heart was racing (not good). He had his spidey sense and he knew that he was in no immediate danger (at the moment anyway) but still, the feeling of dread was coursing through his bloodstream.

“Not a good time.” He said to himself.

Panic was starting to settle beneath his heart. The thought that this could be some intricate trap for the wall-crawler himself was starting to make an appearance. Or that what he was looking at was the end of the world and his whole life would start flashing before his eyes. He constantly did that to himself. He never let his brain catch a break. 

Persistent and unwanted thoughts, urges or images that are intrusive and cause distress or anxiety.

‘Breathe through your nose’ is what he reminded himself.

He squinted at the smoke. 

Or maybe not.

It took only two more minutes of walking and covering his mouth with his left arm that he started to feel dizzy. Either because of whatever was in the air or the fact that his blood pressure kept rising. Peter couldn’t sense anyone around him. No one in the front and no person lurking behind his shoulder.

He told himself to keep walking. It wouldn’t be much further until he found the person that was behind all of this.

“Alright, I need to rest.” Peter said and looked down at a patch of concrete. Wiping away dust and rocks beforehand, he then slowly lowered himself down into a sitting position. He sighed. flopped onto his back.

He strained his eyes, trying to look through the smoke to see the night sky or even the moon.

Hungry Like the Wolf was playing in his ears.

_I'm on the hunt, I'm after you  
Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd_

  
His eyes slipped shut, 

_August 21st, 1985  
10:13PM_

Someone slapping his face. It had hurt. He cozied himself into whatever his head was resting on. Probably the living room couch. Fell asleep during another rerun of Murder She Wrote. He was exhausted and he could feel the latex against his skin which meant he walked into his house with his suit still on and went to sleep out in the open. Where May could see him.

He rolled his head to the side. Then again, this didn’t feel all that familiar. There was no old couch smell or Folgers Coffee ads playing in the background.

Tires screeching. The scent of cinnamon? May must’ve gotten new air fresheners. He pressed his cheek into the cushion further.

“Wake up!” Another hard slap across his face.

That was not May’s voice. Jerking up, he jumped to his feet and raised a hand to his face. His mask was still on. He scrubbed at his eyes and looked into the distance. New York City. He wasn’t home. So wh-?

He turned around.

Johnny sitting on the ground.

At this point, he didn’t even react. It’s been what? His fifth or sixth time running into Johnny unexpectedly? He stared at him blankly.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, the words spilling from his mouth more bitter than he intended.

“I  _ rescued _ you,” Johnny was pressing his eyebrows together, “You were out cold when me and Reed found you.”

“Oh yeah.” Peter replied. He still felt lightheaded. He sat back down and placed his fingers against his temples. “What was that anyway?”

Johnny shrugged and shifted so he was only an inch away from Peter. “Beats me. Reed is still looking into it. The whole area has even evacuated because of what was in the air. We don’t know what it was so if you grow an extra eye you might need to see Reed about it.” Johnny said. 

“Will do.” Peter said.

Peter fell onto his back for the second time that night. This time he could see the moon. A cloud was covering its left side.

Peter looked over at him, although Johnny wasn’t able to tell what he was looking at. Blue light casting itself over his face and his perfect eyelashes and the scar underneath his right cheek. Peter stuck out his lower lip. He was supposed to be angry. He had been stood up that day. Johnny had liked him and he hadn’t said  _anything_ to him. That wasn’t  _ fair _ .

Peter decided to question him.

“So.” Peter said, gaining Johnny’s attention. “Whatever happened with that guy you told me about?” 

Peter tried not to squirm while he awaited Johnny’s response. The answer he feared most was that Johnny would say he decided against it. That something about Peter had threw him off or that he felt they could never be compatible - in friendship or in a way that could be romantic.

“Oh.” Johnny said, which sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. His voice sounded hopeless. 

“Your advice was good. But I also asked my sister about it and- she told me to give him some space. See if he would make a move - or if he was even interested at all.” Johnny bowed his head.

“I’m gonna say this in the most respectful way I can. That’s bullshit.” This caused Johnny to laugh.

“Just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He rejects me and I’ll have to live with that pain for the rest of my life?” Johnny replied almost instantly.

“That’s not so bad.” Peter hummed. 

Peter flexed his fingers. He was sore. Sneaking another glance at Johnny, he desperately wanted to ask the question that was on his mind since Johnny confessed. He opened his mouth.

“So... what is it about this guy you like anyway?” Peter asked. The question he feared most.

Peter couldn’t fathom what anyone could find attractive (or even interesting) about someone like him. Sure, the Spider-Man thing was a plus, but no one knew that’s who he was. He was Peter Parker. A guy who worked a sucky job for the worst newspaper in the city. A guy who couldn’t afford his own tapes or went a day or two without eating so his Aunt could have coffee and toast for breakfast. A guy with trauma from a million different events (his uncle, his parents, the time he played pool with a teenager and ended up on his stomach hours later). A guy who had anxiety and obsessive thoughts and mild depression (that was still a question mark. It would explain how sad he felt lately- why he couldn’t wake up in the morning or not having the need to do anything for himself).

Johnny smiles. “Well.” And then he’s wringing his hands together. 

“First, I don’t know a lot about him if I’m being completely honest. He likes music. He seems really smart and talented. He’s  _ nice _ . And quiet but once you get him talking he’s- he’s passionate about things. That’s what it seems to me, anyway. And he’s  _ pretty _ .”

Peter couldn’t move. No one ever called him  that before. He swallowed. 

“He’s Hispanic I think. I’d have to ask him but... he has nice hands and his eyes are light brown and-“ Johnny slammed his mouth shut. “I just like him. That’s all there is to it.”

Peter leaned in. Although he was choked up, he managed to sputter out, “Is that a blush I see, torchie?”

“Shut up.” Johnny shoved at his shoulder.

“I couldn’t resist.” Peter replied.

A minute of silence passed.

“It’s...I guess I’m kinda scared too.” Johnny confessed.

Peter turned his head.

“Of the.... dating a guy thing?” Peter questioned.

“Yes. I mean.... and there’s the whole aids thing going on too. Four years now. If I’m public with a guy I think- people would assume I’d have it too. Ya know? Not that it’s... it’s complicated. And it’s not like I could... go down there, ya know? Go to the protests and all of that. I’m in those stupid fucking magazines. I’ve met Kirk Cameron and River Phoenix and all of those people. I know I shouldn’t care what they think but....” Johnny was stuttering- having a difficult time finding the right words. He seemed frustrated too. 

“No- I get that. Listen,” Peter took a deep breath, “If it makes you feel any better I wish I could go and protest for that kind of stuff too. Be more open about it.”

Johnny was staring at him. He expected him to continue. Peter cleared his throat. 

“The thing is that- well... all those women and men are down there fighting for their lives. Hearts on their sleeves and I could never- with my mask maybe but-“ He wiped at the corner of his eye. “They have no masks. They aren’t afraid.”

Johnny’s hand found his way on Peter’s lower back and Peter did his best not to react in any shape or form- although he had already froze up and relaxing his shoulders would cause Johnny to notice that he was too frightened to move a muscle.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Johnny patted his back twice before withdrawing his hand.

“God, it’s like we’re each other’s therapists all of a sudden.” Johnny said and before they knew it they were both cackling in unison. A blush creeping under Peter’s neck and Johnny laughing so hard he had tears caught on his eyelashes. It was one of those laughs where something is so funny that you start laughing silently- no noise coming out of either of them. Just shoulders shaking and grabbing onto their own legs for dear life.

“You know,” Johnny said, finally catching his breath, “You remind me of someone.”

Peter rolled his eyes underneath his mask and shoved at Johnny’s shoulder, sending him toppling over. Another burst of laughter escaped Peter’s throat. Peter, standing up to run away, was then sent hurling toward the ground as a result of Johnny grappling at his ankle and pulling as hard as he could.

“That’s so not funny.” Peter, trying to keep his mouth as straight as possible, was staring at Johnny who was reaching out to grab Peter’s shoulder.

“I can’t breathe. Honestly, this is the end of The Human Torch. Tell my family I want Bowie at my funeral.” At this point he was wheezing. 

“Bowie wouldn’t show up to your funeral for all the money in the world.” Peter quipped.

“Fuck you!” Johnny nearly yelled and pushed Peter once more before leaning over Peter’s face and giving him a good flick below the nose.

Both, chests heaving, lips turned upwards, even their pupils looked dilated.

Peter took in a deep breath and said, “Are we drunk?”

Peter knew the answer to this. Both of them were as sober as they come. Unless Johnny slipped something in his mouth while he was sleeping. The possibility of that seemed very unlikely. They were intoxicated with bliss and they were completely captivated by one another and that was the whole of it. They were drunk not from beer or vodka or those shitty wine coolers May bought - but from each other.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Maybe we’re high. I am starting to see stars which should worry me given we’re in the city.” He’s glowing. He’s the Farmhouse in Provence on canvas in contrast to Peter: The Church of Auvers. Peter blinks. Oh. His hair is in flames. An oil lamp on a table made of birch.

Peter wanted to tell Johnny what he saw when he looked into his eyes. They were laying on their backs and Peter was starting to sweat. The flames were too close to him. He’d set on fire. How long until he saw darkness?

“I have to go.” Johnny stated. 

Peter was unbalanced. He didn’t have the strength to get up and go home or to take Johnny’s hand in his and beg him to stay by his side

“Some hero.” He pouted. 

Johnny paused and seemed to admire him and the ridiculous state he was in. Limbs every which way and body rolling to the left and then to the right.

“Sorry. It’s late. You should head back too. To your web or whatever.” Johnny returned. 

“I don’t live in a web. It’s important to me that you know that.” Peter retorted.

Johnny waved at him and then looked over his shoulder. “That was fun. We should hang out.”

_August 22nd, 1985_  
_8:29AM_

“Do you wanna hang out?” Peter asked, his voice cracking, his cheeks crimson. 

He was leaning over Johnny’s desk. Johnny seemed startled. 

“I-Okay. Yeah, that’d be great. When?”

He said yes. Peter was nearly about to faint. Attempting to contain his excitement, he moved around Johnny’s desk and plopped down in his own. 

“After school at my house. Is that alright?’ Peter asked.

“Of course.” Johnny answered. 

The bell rang and they smiled at each other one last time before Johnny leaned over to grab his books from his bag. 

Peter had went home last night about an hour after Johnny had left him by himself. The way they acted around each other that night - they were so cheerful and their hands were on each other and he wanted it to be like that between them again. Without the mask. But was that even possible? At school they couldn’t look at each other without the fear of embarrassment. Furthermore, Peter was finally ready to admit to himself that he loathed the way they tip-toed around each other. At that point, he was tired of it and if Sue had told Johnny to lay off for awhile, it seemed that Peter was the one who had to make the advances. 

Tucked under the sheets the night before, twigs beating against his window, he figured that inviting Johnny back over wasn’t the worst idea in the world. And even if it didn’t go as he planned, he could make up the excuse that Reed’s cassettes were still at his place and that he needed to pick them up. 

Peter had nothing planned - had no idea what he and Johnny would even do at his house because, he already looked through all the tapes and in addition to that, they already came out to each other. What more was there to do? 

Already deciding that he was going to have company that morning, he set his alarm at 6AM that morning so he’d have the time to compose his room into a masterpiece. Organizing his books and cleaning off his bedspread and carrying the dishes into the kitchen. And as foolish as he felt, he made sure to try and dress his best that morning. Although with Peter, his entire wardrobe almost consisted of t-shirts and different types of jeans. Scrunching up his nose, he figured that if he did show up to class with a blazer and nice pants, Johnny would surely be able to see right through him. It would be obvious that he was trying to impress someone. 

He ended up settling on what he usually wore every day and only fixed his hair and sprayed himself with cologne that he had never even opened prior to that day. 

That day, he tried his best to find MJ. Thinking back on it, he really should have asked for her schedule. 

She was the only one he could inquire about something like this. Having a guy at your house to just hang out. No other motives except just being with each other. And he had made the decision earlier that if Johnny did attempt to make another move, Peter would let him. But he had never kissed a guy before. There was the occasional peck from MJ when they thought they were a match and the guys he was with didn’t want any real affection from him. 

That day was not any different and she was nowhere to be seen. He even started questioning whether MJ even went to his school anymore. Where was she all day? Peter took in the possibility that she might even be avoiding him. He shook his head. He was jumping ahead of himself again.

_August 22nd, 1985  
3:19PM_

Peter was drumming his pencil against his desk while he tried to decide on what he would say to Johnny when he saw him. If he told him the only reason he was coming over was because of Reed’s tapes, would it steal away the meaning of Johnny coming over? He scratched at his wrist. He would not bring it up. 

The bell rang and he rushed out of the  classroom. Weaving around the other students, gaining dirty looks when he almost pushed someone into a locker, he pushed open the doors and saw that Johnny was already leaning against the railing, hands shoved in his pockets and leg bobbing up and down. Peter glanced down at his outfit and straightened his shirt before stepping down the stairs and reaching out to lightly brush Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny briskly turned around and looked at Peter before breaking out into a smile. Peter felt relieved and allowed himself to smile back.

“You ready?” Johnny inquired.

“Yeah.” Peter said.

As they walked to Peter’s house, side by side, Johnny let his attention linger on the sidewalk. It was as if Johnny was merely walking him home again. Peter’s forehead wrinkled. Watching the all-too-familiar houses passing by, the daschund who was always on its leash, the stop sign that Peter had punched one day after school, he stopped in his tracks.

Johnny paused as well. “You okay?” He narrowed his eyes.

Peter threw a thumb over his shoulder and blurted out, “If you don’t wanna do anything together don’t feel obligated to. You can tell me.”

Johnny waved dismissively, “I want to hang out. Promise.”

Peter relaxed.

They continued to walk again in unison. 

“I think you worry too much.” Johnny pointed out.

Peter cocked his head to the side and tried to look offended before letting out an audible sigh and nodding his head.

“You’re right. It’s one of my best personality traits.”

Johnny barked out a laugh that left a shade of pink dusting Peter’s freckled cheeks.

Only minutes later did they reach Peter’s house, and when Peter kicked his shoes off (Johnny following suit) he spotted a note on the kitchen table. 

Grabbing it between his thumb and forefinger, he scanned the messy handwriting that ended up leaving ink smeared on his hand.

_Won’t be back until late. And no, I am not bringing you coffee.  
GO TO BED AT A REASONABLE TIME!!!_

_\- May_

He huffed out a sigh and let go of the note, allowing it to float back down to its rightful place.

“What is it?” Johnny asked.

“Just a note from my Aunt. She won’t be home until later.” 

Johnny made a noise in the back of his throat and seemed to take in that information.

The two ended up making their way into Peter’s bedroom, leaving the door wide open. Barely any conversation was exchanged between the two.

Johnny settled himself on the bed and unzipped his backpack slowly, squinting his eyes until they were barely slits. His fingers clutched onto the zipper but made no sudden movement. Frustration. 

“Listen. I should have thought about it before I brought it with me but it seems too late. And if you get mad or upset I can just throw the bag out the window and, I guess I should have asked because I don’t even know if you-”

Peter interrupted him, “What is it?”

Johnny looked guiltily up at him, “Weed.”

Peter tried to look nonchalant. In reality, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t slightly surprised.

“Oh.” Peter let his mouth hang open.

Shaking his head, in one swift movement he took four steps forward and planted himself firmly by Johnny’s side. 

“So you- want to smoke it? With me?”

Johnny rolled his eyes but there was a smile ghosting itself over his lips. “No, I want to fry it up in a pan and eat it.”

Johnny’s tensed up body melted away when he noticed that  _Peter_ was now the one who felt frightened.

“I just thought it would help us loosen up. I don’t know if you noticed, but I realize how awkward we are with each other at school. If we’re gonna hang out, wouldn’t you want something that can magically fix how fucking weird we’ve gotten?” He asked.

Peter scraped his teeth against his tongue. He gestured for Johnny to hand him his backpack. Reaching into the backpack, his fingers came into contact with a plastic bag. 

Peter had never seen marijuana in real life. On TV or in magazines, sure. Given he had never even seen it, he had never smoked either. He never even had the urge to do so. He looked up at Johnny. Was this considered peer pressure? The brown mascot bear that walked into his school in 8th grade had specifically told him the definition of peer pressure and what to do if he was ever in a situation like this.

But Johnny was not pressuring him into it. In fact, he had apologized for even bringing it with him. And it’s not like Johnny would leave or make fun of him for not smoking. 

“Okay.” Peter said.

Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“I’ll smoke with you.”

“You don’t have to.” Johnny said assuringly.

“No, I want to.” Peter confessed.

Johnny nodded. “Cool.”

Peter watched him as he dug into his back pocket and revealed a lighter with flames crawling up the side.

Peter snorted. “Why do you need a lighter?”

“Hm?” Johnny asked while he stood up and decided to plant himself in Peter’s desk chair.

“You have a lighter. But you could literally light it with your finger.” Peter stated.

“Oh yeah.” Peter tried to look over his shoulder to see what Johnny was doing. The weed was being spilled out of the bag.

“Every time I’ve tried to do that I set the whole joint on fire. A lighter is easier.”

Peter nodded although Johnny wasn’t able to see him.

“Could you hand me my backpack?” Johnny asked.

Peter picked up the bag and handed it to him. 

“How long does that take?” Peter asked. He was starting to feel fidgety.

“I gotta roll it first. It’ll only be a minute.” He sounded amused.

It was a short duration of time where Peter was scratching at his jeans and reaching down to itch his ankle until Johnny stood up and waved the joints in front of his face. Peter’s heart jumped. He was about to make a fool of himself.

“Here.” Johnny handed it to him. Peter wasn’t even sure how to hold it right.

“I’m guessing you’ve never smoked.” Johnny breathed out a small laugh.

“No, not really.” Peter was turning the joint around in the palm of his hand.

“Don’t worry I’ll show you first.”

Johnny placed the joint between his lips and lifted the lighter to his mouth. A few flicks and a flame ignited. Cupping his free hand around the small fire, he brought the flame to the joint.

He placed the lighter on Peter’s bedside table as the joint dangled in his mouth. Peter observed intently and Johnny closed his eyes and inhaled. He removed the joint and took a few seconds before he exhaled and blew a gray cloud of smoke into Peter’s face. Pink lips and lidded eyes.

Peter’s hands were clammy and his throat felt too tight.

“Here.” Johnny leaned in and grabbed the joint from the middle of Peter’s palm. Holding it between his fingers, he delicately pushed it between Peter’s parted lips. Peter couldn’t help but to maintain eye contact while Johnny lit his joint. Peter could feel his face form a cringe and he looked at Johnny for directions.

“Just inhale. Slowly.” He instructed.

And he did. When Johnny motioned for him to exhale he started coughing uncontrollably. He covered his mouth with the corner of his arm and then looked at Johnny through blurry eyes.

Johnny started cackling, “Don’t worry, that’s how my first went too. It gets smoother.”

Peter tried again. He continued coughing. “And this will make us relax?”

“Definitely,” Johnny exhaled, “Or really happy. Or nauseas or scared out of your mind. Paranoid.”

Johnny smiled at Peter’s look of terror.

“Don’t worry, everyone I know has never felt like that.”

“And if I’m the exception?” Peter asked.

Johnny laughed, “Then good luck.”

Johnny was right. It got easier with every hit and eventually he wasn’t even coughing anymore. He leaned against the wall.

“We’ll probably get really hungry too. You got anything?” Johnny asked.

Peter thought for a moment and then said, “If you like expired milk and wheat bread then sure. I have a whole buffet.” 

“I’ll order a pizza,” Johnny said, “Where’s your phone?”

Peter waved his hand indicating that it was in the kitchen. Johnny nodded and stood up. 

“What kind of pizza you like?” Johnny asked.

“Pepperoni.” Peter answered.

Johnny mumbled something and stood up.

“Hey- when am I supposed to start feeling different anyway?” Peter asked.

_August 22nd, 1985  
3:59PM_

The two boys had somehow set up camp in the living room. Peter didn’t even remember plugging in his turntable by the TV but he eventually looked at it through tired eyes and wondered why Paul McCartney was singing to him.

Johnny had ordered two large pizzas but only four slices remained out of the two.

They were both sprawled out on the couch with Johnny’s head resting in Peter’s lap. It didn’t even register in his mind that the other boy was resting on his legs- he was too out of it.

They were on their second joint by now and Johnny was worrying his bottom lip as he looked up at Peter, who was staring at the wall ahead of him.

“Hey,” Johnny said, “Hey!” He reached up and slapped Peter’s face.

“Hm?” Peter asked. 

There was silence. “You wanna shotgun?”

“What’s that?” Peter asked casually.

It was a bit hard for him at the moment to express anything. He just felt good. No anxiety, no overload of emotions, he was simply calm. Which is why he didn’t have too much of a response (as he usually would) when Johnny explained the definition of what shotgunning is.

“It’s when I take a hit and then blow it into your mouth.”

Peter nodded slowly, “Okay.”

Although his perception of time and his surroundings were more than difficult to comprehend, his heart still jumped in his chest when Johnny lifted his head from Peter’s lap. 

Peter gazed at Johnny. Johnny took a hit and held it for a few short seconds. He cupped Peter’s face with one hand and Peter opened his mouth slightly.

Johnny leaned forward and exhaled. Fog crawled its way into his mouth, behind his teeth, under his tongue. Johnny’s bottom lip bumped Peter’s. Peter withheld a gasp. 

Johnny pulled back and looked at him. The record player was muted. Johnny’s hot breath on his face and he was so sure they were about to kiss. And Peter wouldn’t have cared if they did. In fact, he would (obviously) welcome it. But (and as strange as it was for him) he also didn’t have the urge to crash lips with the guy.

“Intense.” Peter commented and then laughed in his face.

“You’re the worst!” But then Johnny was giggling too.

Downright giddy.

Once the laughter died down, both of them slouched down on the couch, it grew quite.

_Revolver (1966)._

“Hey,” Peter shoved Johnny’s shoulder, “Look at me!”

Johnny groaned and opened his right eye, “What?

“I wanna ask you something.”

“What’s stopping you?” Johnny mumbled.

“Fuck you,” Peter whined, “It was a good question too.”

“Ask it then. Stop pouting now I’m curious.”

Peter sighed and stretched out his legs, “Like- are you afraid of dying?”

Johnny snorted, “What made you think of something like that?”

“You got me high. It’s my chance to act deep without humiliating myself.” Peter quipped.

Johnny slapped Peter’s shoulder but seemed to contemplate the question for a moment. 

“Sometimes. Not really,” Johnny positioned himself on his back again to look at him, “Are you?”

“Yes.” Peter confessed, and with that response he let out a shaky breath.

Johnny was searching for something in Peter’s eyes. Whatever he wanted, he couldn’t find it. Pain or sorrow? The world collapsing in the white glare that painted itself on his iris?

“Why?” Johnny asked. 

Peter paused, “Cause I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid of what I might miss when I’m gone. Or if when I die I won’t know it or if everything will be black. Not even black- because there is no color when you die. It’s just nothing.” 

“Fuck.” Johnny said. 

“Yeah.” Peter said. 

“That’s kinda dark. You think about that stuff a lot?” Johnny inquired. 

Peter loosely shrugged and waved a hand in front of his face, “I guess.”

“Tell me a secret.” Johnny said. 

Peter pressed his eyebrows together, “I don’t have any.”

That was a lie.

“A small one. It doesn’t matter what type.”

“You have to tell me one then.” Peter demanded. 

“Okay whatever. Go.”

Peter searched through his memory and scanned every single humiliating event that could even be considered a secret. Spider-Man was obviously something he couldn’t confess to. His second largest secret was that he liked guys, but Johnny already knew this. Were his mental illnesses considered a secret? Was his Uncle’s death? Was Skip Westcott? Then again, he wasn’t sure if he could talk about those last two without bursting into tears, especially considering the state he was in now. 

He had a crush on Johnny. That definitely counted. But maybe that was already established when Johnny’s mouth was practically pressed against his. 

“I have a whole bunch of issues. Does that count as a secret?”

Johnny cocked his head to the side and settled on a ‘yes.’

“You have to elaborate.” 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and stretched his neck back to look at the ceiling. Anywhere but him. 

“Like anxiety. And OCD and depression. And maybe PTSD? Trauma from… a lot of shit that went down.” He confessed.

Johnny was a lot more softer when he asked, “What happened?” 

Peter wiped a hand down his face. He took a deep breath.

He had never even told May the whole story. 

“My Uncle died a few years ago. And I found him before it was too late. I was trying to cover the bullet wound - some guy shot him. No one would even call the cops. I was on this street that no one really went down at night. So I just sat there with him. Until some lady screamed and alerted this taxi driver.”

Johnny blew a breath out of his mouth, “Shit.”

“There was blood all under my fingernails. And the next morning when I woke up it was still there. A reminder. No matter how much I scrubbed the shit was still there.” Peter wiped at the corner of his eye. 

“I’m sorry.” Johnny whispered.

Peter refrained from sighing. What was he sorry for?

“Okay I’m done. It’s your turn now.”

“Okay, okay. It’s only fair.”

Silence.

“Well?” Peter asked.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” Johnny complained. 

Peter hated admitting that he was sure Johnny’s secret would be something stupid. For example, Johnny would admit to fucking some girl who worked at teen beat. Or that he stole Reed’s car and crashed it. What type of trauma would someone like Johnny even have? Peter couldn’t seem to fathom that anything bad or all too serious could’ve happened to Johnny (Except for the fact that he was a superhero. And that he was gay or whatever he labeled himself as. It’s not like he was out).

Johnny Storm was beautiful and famous. He was even more loved than Tony and Janet. 

He had a huge family and loads of cash. Johnny owned a bunch of cool cars and everyone thought of him as the nicest hero out there. “Not like that Spider guy. Why a secret identity? What secret does that dick have to keep from the city he protects?”

“Alright I think I’m ready.” Johnny said suddenly. Peter flinched and was brought back to reality. 

“Okay.” Peter said back.

“Um. I guess mine would be that I’m always afraid that my family will leave me behind.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “Why do you think that?”

Johnny cracked a weary smile, “I don’t know. I know I’m not hard to handle. I can be loud and annoying pretty much all the time. And Sue has had to take care of me pretty much since I was a toddler. I think she secretly wants to get away from me. Cause, like, she has Reed. And they’re both super smart and I can barely understand anything they talk about. I think Ben has always just tolerated me. He was Reed’s friend, not mine. I don’t think he ever liked me very much. They all have each other and I’m just the kid of the family that isn’t smart or even all that tough.”

Peter didn’t dare say it, as to not devalue Johnny’s feelings, but everything he had said wasn’t even close to being true.

The Fantastic Four were in the newspaper all the time. Meaning they were caught fighting the bad guys, fighting each other, or everything else that came in between.

Reporters would write a whole article about how the F4 frequented a certain coffee shop almost two times a week, or how Reed got fined by the city for ruining traffic lights and road signs. 

They even reported their most intimate moments.

One picture Peter had remembered very well was one of Ben messing up Johnny’s hair with a wide grin on his face. Not an evil grin or one that could be considered condescending, but one that was created out of pure love.

Peter didn’t doubt that the rest of the team did get irritated by Johnny from time to time, but it wasn’t like they would ever get rid of each other. Johnny not being a part of the team would leave a gaping hole just as it would if Reed or Sue left. 

“You’re not annoying.” Peter said.

“Our relationship should not be based on lies.” Johnny chuckled.

“I’m serious. You’re nice and you care a lot about other people. Why else would you be a superhero? I’m sure your family loves you.”

Johnny smiled up at him but Peter still refused to make eye contact.

“Thanks.” He said softly.

_ Peter and Johnny’s Theme.  _

_ Eleanor Rigby - Strings Only. _

**_ Start song . _ **

Stars and planets were scattered across his vision. Johnny’s hair was burning his thigh in a way that made Peter clutch at the couch arm - not too hard, not wanting to draw Johnny’s attention.

The blond boy was still staring up at him, as if he was a person he had never seen before. Some guy he picked up on the way home to smoke with and then eventually figured out that he’s known him this whole time. He gazed at Peter and the freckles splattering his cheeks, the way his hair fell in front of one of his eyes, the steady rise and falter of Peter’s chest.

When Peter dared to meet Johnny’s gaze, he could tell there was something on Johnny’s mind. Something that he wanted to say or do. Peter’s question was answered when he tugged at the bottom of Peter’s shirt. Confusion. He tugged again.

“Lay down with me.”

And Peter obliged. Of course there was not much room on the couch- not much room for them to even lay side by side on their backs. Peter scooted his body down the length of the couch and ended up curling against Johnny’s side. Not sure where to put his hands, he ended up resting his arm underneath his own body and the other splayed against Johnny’s chest. Bravery and numbness.

They were both still high. Peter thought back on the first time Johnny had been here and the difference between the first visit and the second.

A million eyes on them as they inhaled and exhaled in unison.

Johnny’s hand was in Peter’s hair- his fingers spread out as far as his hand would let them. He was combing Peter’s hair, rubbing the texture between his fingers, and eventually, pressing his cheek against his head.

Eyes fluttered shut and an aura of peace was reaching every corner of the room. 

A lift in the air, a spin, a man at a dinner table disapproving. Rebellion.

“You’re beautiful.” Johnny breathed. Peter was sure that his hair was tickling Johnny’s cheeks and mouth.

Peter didn’t respond audibly. The hand that was frozen on the boy’s chest was now being intertwined with a different pair of fingers. A thumb rubbing over someone’s knuckles. Peter pressed himself closer into the warmth. 

The interesting thing was - neither boy had the urge to kiss each other. To release all of the pent up emotions of desire and love and the care they had developed for one another. Lying there, touching each other in a way that seemed safe, was good enough for them. At the moment.

Camera film stretched, confining their arms and legs. The last few pictures were dark. Either a mystery or nothing. 

Michael Jackson’s _Thriller_. Parachute pants and banana clips and teased hair and too much fucking spandex. Footloose and Reagan and brains covering the side of a building. Handheld camcorders. Molly Ringwald’s intense red hair. 

Johnny and Peter’s theme. Violins that lack the story of a lonely woman and a priest. A theme that lacks the jars and the graveyard and the sermon. The love was developing. 

They were over-painting. The oil was too thick. A bandage covering one of their ears. A mysterious girl dressed in yellow. The boys were standing by a canoe. The sky blue and unfamiliar objects seeming to crowd around them. 

Johnny kissed the side of his head, right above his ear. He could feel it. He could feel the intense feeling it sent through his entire body right down to the tips of his toes. 

_ Quarantine the queers. _

_ Don’t medicine and morality teach the same lesson? _

_ Turn around, fight back! _

_ This means that in America it’s okay to kill gay people.  _

They were now fast asleep. Dreaming of a desire that was similar and yet not at all in the way they perceived it. 

**_ Song Ends Here.  _ **

August 22nd, 1985  
8:11PM

They woke up in the same position they fell asleep in.

Thankfully, Peter’s Aunt was not home yet. They had woken up around 7:30PM. Well, Johnny did. He had to shake Peter’s shoulders a few times before his eyes shot open, expecting his Aunt with questions about Johnny and the weed and the pizza boxes that sat on her carpet.

Johnny told him that it was about time that he should head home. Peter agreed, although he wished Johnny would’ve been able to stay at least a little bit longer. 10 minutes was all he needed.

They were back in a regular state of mind. Johnny had even helped Peter clean up the living room before he left. 

He had walked Johnny to the door, making small talk that was comfortable enough for the two of them. When Johnny has started to push the door open, Peter’s eyes bulged out of his head and yelled a ‘Wait here!’

Johnny, although very confused, did so. Peter ran frantically back into his room. Johnny had heard the sound of something falling off his desk and hands jerking open beside drawers.

When Peter came rushing back into the room, he had a white tape in his hands and delicately held his hand out for Johnny to take it.

“It’s the mixtape I promised you.” He said.

Peter didn’t notice the heart that was scribbled on one side of Johnny’s name before it was too late. He narrowed his eyes. That’s what he deserved for leaving it out where his aunt could find it. 

Peter couldn’t help a smile when he saw the appreciation and joy coloring Johnny’s cheeks. 

“It’s all my favorites. You might be able to find something.” Peter said quietly. 

“Ah thanks!! I’m gonna listen to it as soon as I can!” Johnny responded.

He tucked the tape into his shirt pocket and then pushed the door open once more.

He turned around and said, “I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you.”

Arson and Theft. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://spideytcrch.tumblr.com/post/190273719029/uploading-pictures-of-fashion-that-i-had-picked
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/rhutvwy0brwsqk63qnib3q7g7?si=xT49wxAPQM2VpG-KkJpAkw


	4. Candy and Ronnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been awhile and this is short but. ya know.

_ So needless to say  
_ _ I’m odds and end  
_ _ But I’ll be stumbling away  _

_ August 24th, 1985  
_ _ 9:39AM _

A Saturday. 

Peter’s head was killing him and the light peaking through his blinds made him indescribably angry.

Johnny and Peter hadn’t spoken the day after their meetup. Peter wasn’t sure what he could even to say to him.

Most of it was gone. Bits and pieces. Fragments of a story that made no sense when he tried to put them in order. It had scared him at first; how easily you can lose your memory. When he tried to think about the night before, some of the memories were funny. Others made him cringe. 

What confused him the most? If Johnny had kissed him or not. He remembered it, saw it in his head, but it wasn’t that simple. He also remembered seeing Hydro-Man standing in the kitchen and doing the dishes.

He wouldn’t ask him. He’d rather save the embarrassment that would be inflicted upon him if he did.

A door creaked open. 

Opening one eye, he only saw a pair of feet. 

“There’s someone here for you. Hurry downstairs.” The feet were gone.

Peter shoved his face back into his pillow and groaned. That usually meant there was a package that needed to be signed for. Peter was always given that responsibility. May’s excuse was that her hair was never fixed in the morning or she had no makeup on. Why would a delivery person care anyway?

He pushed himself up with the palms of his hands. Throwing back his comforter, he planted his feet on the ground. He looked down. Pajama bottoms and a white shirt. Decent enough. He knew he had bed head as he descended the stairs but decided against fixing it. 

“Can  you sign for one every now and then? They’re never mine anyway.” Peter grumbled. 

May didn’t respond. Her back was to him. 

“Sorry for the wait. I’ll sign.” He said as he swung the door open. 

Peculiar. No brown uniform today. Maybe it was casual Saturday? Was that even a thing? 

White shirt. Pink blazer. White pants with black stripes. Bit excessive. 

“Sorry?”

Peter’s shoulders tensed. That voice. 

Johnny merely smiled.

It was as if the room got ten degrees hotter. Heat on the back of his neck. 

Peter suddenly became conscious of his sleeping attire and his hair that was pointing every direction. It seemed as if Johnny had been up for hours already. Bright, refreshed, beautiful. Peter didn’t even have to look at himself in the mirror to know he had dark circles under his eyes. 

“So are you here to see me or have you finally decided to get a day job?” He asked. 

Footsteps in the kitchen. May. 

“Well I-” Johnny had the same idea. His eyes were looking into the house, towards May. 

Peter nodded and ushered Johnny onto the porch before closing the door behind him. 

Johnny let himself be pushed outside. 

Peter almost felt embarrassed at the fact that he had to tilt his head up to look at Johnny. There wasn’t a significant height difference between them; only about three inches. It still bothered him. 

“Sorry.” Peter murmured.

He couldn’t meet his eyes but he stood there expectantly. 

“I couldn’t- I mean, I could’ve called but I f-“ 

Peter cut him off, “No it’s-“

“-Had to be done in person.”

Overlapping apologies and reassurances. 

“Okay.” Peter said. 

Johnny inhaled, “I don’t know where to start.”

Peter’s thumb and middle finger found each other as Johnny opened and closed his mouth. Anytime he was nervous it was almost impossible for him to not start picking at his nails. 

Whenever he did, May or MJ would get on his ass about it. They hated that sound; no one wanted to hear the constant clicking of him ruining his nails. 

He tried to make the action as soundless as possible.

“I really enjoyed being with you the other day… and, well, I don’t remember everything but..” Johnny paused.

They were standing awfully close; so close that if anyone walked down the street they surely would yell something at them. Peter didn’t want to take a step back. Johnny would feel insulted.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Johnny blurted.

A deer caught in headlights as his mouth raced to catch up with his mind. He wasn’t prepared for something like this. 

“I-what?”

Nice one, Peter. 

Johnny shifted and swallowed, “I was- okay. I like you. A lot. And maybe you like me? If you don’t- let me just take you out once. So you can- so we..... It can be in public or- you choose.” 

Johnny seemed to be equally nervous. He could tell- the tongue in his cheek and the stiffness in his shoulders. Peter felt like throwing up. 

Say yes, right? He liked Johnny too. More than he would care to admit. But why was it so hard to say it out loud?

“Shit.” The words tumbled out of Peter’s mouth. 

“Ah. I get it. I’m sor-“ Johnny waved his hand in front of his face as in a ‘no big deal!’ - which was a complete lie. 

Peter reached out and grabbed his arm. Looking at his fingers around Johnny’s sleeve, he loosened his grip, but still held on. 

“I do. I like you. I’m just- I don’t know how to... do all of this.”

Johnny cocked his head in confusion. Peter’s head was pounding. 

“I’ve never- I mean- I don’t know why this is so hard to say.” Peter looked at Johnny’s face. Eyebrows twisted and mouth turned upside down. 

“I’ve never been on a real date with a guy before. My- I don’t know if... I’m scared. What could happen if we-“

Johnny reaches forward and grabbed Peter’s hands. Peter didn’t want to breathe.

“It doesn’t have to be in public. I can plan something that would- we could be comfortable. That’s- I want you to feel safe. We don’t have to go out- if you’re not ready. Fuck, I don’t even know if I am. And- I like you. A lot. Like- I can’t stop thinking about you and I want to be with you and take care of you and all of that sappy shit. Just one chance? And if you don’t like the way I eat or the way I act you can throw me out.” Johnny’s eyes quivered. He wouldn’t stop looking at Peter in that way. The way that made Peter feel devastated for no reason. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Peter said softly.

“So how bout it?” Johnny’s eyes were wide. Childlike. 

“Okay.” 

Johnny unconsciously bounced on his feet, “Great! Um- how about Friday? Unless that’s too far away but- I mean. School nights a-“

“Friday is good.” Peter said.

“Then I’ll see you then. Here- seven?” Johnny asked and Peter nodded.

With one last smile, Johnny turned on his heels to leave. A pause and Peter desperately wanted to know the expression on his face. Johnny was contemplating something but what?

It was two seconds later that his question was answered. Johnny turned, placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and dug frantically in his pocket.

“Here. Your music was great. It’s been on loop like- all night. Here’s the stuff I like. We can talk about it on Friday.” 

Peter stood frozen, watching Johnny walk away until he was completely out of sight. 

Looking over his shoulder, May wasn’t in view. He blew out a sigh and pushed open the door. 

Peter closed the door softly behind him. Attempting to tiptoe toward the staircase, a voice came from the bathroom. 

“He seems really serious about what he said- not that I was listening but.... hey, have fun.”

_ August 24th, 1985  
11:28PM _

When Peter had crept up the stairs he pushed inside his room and flopped down on the bed. 

He swiped his player from his desk and immediately pressed Johnny’s tape inside.

Flipping it over, his eyes scanned over the music that Johnny had picked for him to hear. For Peter.

The first song started out quiet and staticky- Peter had figured it wasn’t recorded very well.

Twelve seconds in and the piano kicked in. 

_ Bennie and The Jets.  _

The tape had six Elton John songs - all in a row. It went from _Bennie and The Jets_ to _Honky Cat_ to _Pinball Wizard_ and et cetera.

Peter had never listened to Elton John. While he listened to _Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)_ he found himself regretting not listening to him sooner.

Needless to say, Peter had a good day. Johnny Storm liked him and they were going on a date. He felt like he was on top of the world.

It was one of those overwhelming feelings you get- euphoric. Where you’re so happy you forget about anything else besides the high you’re riding at that very moment in time.

Those moments come once in a life time for Peter - where he can’t stop smiling or when he wants to clean his room for no reason because for some reason, at that moment, it was fun to organize..

Which is why he was on the edge of one of the highest buildings in New York City, completely humiliating himself with the worst dance moves he knew. And the humiliating choreography he put together most definitely didn’t match Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.

And even worse? It was about three minutes before he realized Johnny was standing on the other side of the roof, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

He froze, threw up a peace sign, and let himself fall backwards. That was a memory that he would have to erase permanently from his mind. Embarrassing himself in front of the guy he was technically dating. Well- Johnny didn’t even know it was him.

Maybe there was a smile here. A realization. The smile disappeared and there’s two different routes he had to choose between.

August 26th, 1985  
5:57PM

It was only a few days later when Peter heard from Johnny again- only it wasn’t what he expected.

Big flames in the sky in the shape of letters. They were so big Peter had to go letter by letter and spell it out in his head.

S P I D E Y- M E E TM EA TT H ES T A T U E 

He quirked his eyebrow. Vague. His eyes scanned the sky once more before seeing another set of smaller words.

THE GREEN ONE. 

The Statue of Liberty. 

Peter had never been. A New Yorker all his life and he’d never seen it up close- not even for a school field trip. 

The real question was how he was even going to get there.

Oh- and why did Johnny want to see Spidey of all people?

Peter wasn’t sure how long those words had been etched in the sky. It had to be recent. By the time he hitched a ride on a ferry, it occurred to him that Johnny could’ve been waiting there for hours.

When he finally made it, the sun starting to set, his head was pouring from stress, and he was even feeling a bit guilty for leaving Johnny stranded. 

As the ferry reached the island Peter began looking for Johnny. He didn’t see his figure standing anywhere. But Johnny could fly, right? Peter tilted his head upwards and spotted Johnny, legs crossed and looking as small as an ant.

“Alright folks- this is where I get off.” Peter said to himself, ignoring the nervous tremor in his voice.

Hauling himself up lady liberty with his webbing wasn’t as easy as he thought it would’ve been. His entrance, instead of being graceful or casual, was him falling face first on the head of the statue.

Johnny’s head turned quickly and when he spotted Peter his eyes softened.

“That ferry cost me an arm and leg. What’s the sudden interest in New York’s biggest attractions?”

“Hey.” Is all Johnny said.

Peter narrowed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

Johnny almost looked defensive, “Huh?”

Peter took a few steps forward, slowly, “Your voice. There’s something wrong I can tell.”

Johnny’s hard features relaxed as he turned his eyes toward the sun meeting the water, “I guess you got me, huh?”

“What is it?” Peter sat down next to him.

Looking at Johnny, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. If Johnny was angry with him or himself, if Johnny was upset or if there was good news or bad news about to escape from his lips.

“I need to talk to you.”

That was never good. Dread.

“Geez... it sounds serious.” He let out a phony laugh.

“I just- I know most of are meetings have been me unloading all my issues on you but.... it’s serious this time. I need your help.”

Peter nodded, “Alright, shoot.”

Johnny rubbed his hands together. He looked shrunken, like he collapsed in on himself. Worry lines on his forehead and leg bouncing up and down.

“I might as well just- say it. I.... Ive done something really stupid.”

Peter had a comeback ready for that. Maybe a ‘that wouldn’t be the first time’ or something of that sort. He bit his tongue.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with two people.”

The words hit him like a ton of bricks.

Wow. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It stung, actually. Peter was man enough to admit that his feelings were most definitely hurt. It even felt like someone twisted a knife in his stomach or he hit his toe on the side of a chair or he was a child and someone tore up one of his favorite drawings.

“Oh.” Is all he could say.

Who else could Johnny be- who was there that he.... who was it?!

“You know about the one. The cute guy from school. Everything was going great, ya know? I asked him out he said yes... I had the whole thing planned in advance too. The second guy is....” Johnny paused.

Peter was running through his mind, trying to remember if he ever saw Johnny talking to another guy at school, if there was ever a rumor that he and some celebrity had hooked up.

“A pen pal.” Johnny said.

Peter raised his eyes brows. This had to be a joke.

“A... pen pal?” He repeated it back to him, slowly, letting the words sink in.

“That’s the problem. I’ve- never really met him. But I like the guy from school too and- but they’re both so....”

The sides of Peter’s mouth turned upside down. He wanted to cry. He tried to lift his mouth, so it wouldn’t seem noticeable - but he didn’t have to worry: he forgot about his mask.

“Well,” Peter swallowed, “How long have you known him?”

Johnny scratched the back of his neck, “I’d say about..... less than a week???”

Peter didn’t give him a response- either because he was going to burst into tears or start punching something.

“So....?” Johnny asked.

What was he expecting? For Peter to say it was okay? For him to sympathize with Johnny? Maybe that would’ve been the case if Peter wasn’t one of the guys Johnny supposedly ‘loved’.

“Well.... that’s.... its kinda shitty to fall in love with two people, don’t you think?” It came out harsher than he intended it to.

“What?” Johnny asked, surprised.

“You’re gonna end up hurting one of them anyway. I mean, fuck, what did you expect me to say, Johnny?” Peter’s voice was rising along with his temper.

Johnny lifted himself up and crossed his arms, “Hey, what’s your damage? I’m confiding in you here.”

Peter’s back was to him at this point - he had got up to leave.

Peter turned around, “Well who asked you to?!,” He was shouting, “Listen- I gotta get a ride back.”

“You know you’re being pretty bogus about this whole thing!” Johnny shouted at him right before Peter jumped off the side of lady liberty’s crown.

Peter couldn’t help but fret the whole way back home.

What was this other guy like? How did he write, was he funnier than Peter, was he smarter?

Johnny could’ve already sent this mystery person a mixtape. It could’ve even been an exact copy of the one Peter was given. Peter found himself sick to his stomach over the pet names they might’ve been calling each other, the hearts made of ink being scribbled on some envelope. 

Did Johnny tell this guy about his favorite music? The band a-Ha?

Peter wondered ‘maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if it wasn’t another guy’.

By the time he crawled through his window (most of his anger having already fizzled out), he hardly noticed the one message blinking on the answering machine.

“Hi. It’s me, Johnny. Listen, Pete, I’ve got- I need to.... can you meet me at the arcade? The one we met at? At about eight? It’s important. I’ll be waiting there.”

Peter rolled his eyes. It’s like he couldn’t escape him.

Of course his initial decision was to leave Johnny waiting. Maybe put on a movie and try to forget about the whole thing- about what he and Johnny were about to be.

Staring down at the machine, his suit clinging to him uncomfortably, he thought- would it be so bad just to see him one more time? Or maybe Peter could break things off before Johnny was even given the chance.

And with that final thought, Peter was peeling off his suit, jumping in the shower, and getting dressed to go ‘break up’ with Johnny Storm.

Peter pulled on his jeans, tucked in his plain white shirt, and tied his laces. Although his stomach was in knots, he was sure this was going to be an enjoyable experience.

August 26th, 1985  
8:15PM

Peter had actually decided to circle the block for a while just so he could be ‘fashionably late.’ Leave him hanging, let him wonder if Peter would even show up, but not too late so as Johnny would leave. 

It was only a second later after he opened the doors that Johnny’s hand was on his shoulder, ushering him to the back room, the dark ‘cubicle’ where they kept all the outdated games.

Peter felt like shouting ‘don’t touch me’ or ‘get off of me’ before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be mad at Johnny. 

“What’re you doing?” He laughed nervously, attempting to use his best ‘confused’ voice. 

“Okay.” Johnny grabbed him by the shoulders. Peter tried not to shrink under his intense stare.

“I have- I like someone else. And I thought I should tell you that before- I thought you deserved to know the truth.” 

Alright, Peter gave him points for telling the truth, for being so upfront about the situation. Then again, it was even more painful- having being told to his face.

“And I- I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not you either, it’s me, which I know that’s like, the most annoying thing a person can say. You’re wonderful and- I mean, perfect. I’m the one who’s all screwed up.” 

Tears welled in his eyes. The concern on Johnny’s face, the regret was evident. 

“Can I ask, who is it? Do I know them?” Peter managed to say.

Which was a mistake. Either Johnny was going to stick with the pen pal thing or it was going to be someone completely different, which meant Johnny had lied to him earlier. He decided at the last second that he didn’t want to know. At that point Johnny’s lips were already moving.

“It’s......Spider-Man.”

His mind went blank. Or maybe it was the other way around- because his head was spinning. What the fuck?

Peter held in his laughter. On one hand, it was a wave of relief. On the other, he was mortified.

Johnny was in love with two people.... who’re the same person? Was he always this lucky?

It wasn’t like he could tell him the truth. Not even May or MJ knew, but that was a different story. That weren’t supers. Johnny would be able to handle himself.

“....It isn’t fair to you.” Oh. Johnny was still talking.

“I.... have to go.” Peter said.

Suddenly, it seemed like a brilliant idea to go home so he could write a pros and cons list. 

He wanted this to work out with Johnny. 

“I have to go home and- I’ll call you. Or I- see ya!” Peter shouted and sprinted toward the door without looking back. 

Johnny’s shoulders fell. This was the second time someone had abandoned him today. What were the odds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna write a west side story Spideytorch au because why not


	5. Apollo and Hyacinthus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. Thank you all for bearing with me as I posted this. Not the best but I’m glad I finally finished it. Enjoy!

_Slowly learning that life is okay  
Say after me_   
_It’s no better to be safe than sorry_

  
_August 31st, 1985_   
__ 1:38AM  
  


Johnny hadn’t been at school that entire week. Peter hadn’t even ran into him during patrol. Either Johnny was kidnapped under mysterious circumstances or Peter was being avoided. 

I seemed as if there wasn’t enough time in the world for Peter to make up his mind. There was no rush, but to him he felt like he had an important deadline to meet. 

It wasn’t helpful to keep Johnny waiting. He deserved to know the truth. Peter knew that. But still- why was it so hard for Peter to just.... say it? 

He was sure Johnny was thinking things over as well. 

It wasn’t easy being in love with two people who were actually the same person... although, Peter wasn’t sure how many people shared _that_ experience . 

The problem was that he barely knew Johnny and vice versa. He wanted to believe that Johnny would understand - that he would keep his secret safe. But what did he base that belief on? 

He kept going over the fact that Johnny was a super as well. Johnny could probably even defend himself better than Peter could. He was fire. Peter was just someone who caught baddies in sticky webs (which seemed to gross them out more times than scare them). 

It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that. It would have to be a secret. Not just from his friends but from the world. Johnny might not even be able to tell his family. Being a secret would hurt, but Peter was used to it.

They would never have a normal relationship. They didn’t have that privilege. 

Peter found himself wishing he fell in love with a girl this time around. It would save him the pain. He could marry a girl, have kids with her, be public with her. He could carry a woman in his arms while swinging through the city. People would bat their eyelashes and gush over the fact that Spider-Man had a girlfriend. 

With Johnny, it would be a charade. They would be acting for the rest of their lives- unless they were brave enough to let the whole city know about who they loved. They could be, he wanted to be. Peter intertwined his fingers together. That was a joke. He wasn’t confident enough to do that. 

He was on his favorite building again, with a massive headache and his stomach lurching. He continued to sit there, weighing out his options, despite the epic plans he had for later: pop some sleeping pills and lay in the dark for awhile. 

He wondered what kind of constellations he would be able to see if the city lights didn’t drown them out. Wasn’t Centaurus somewhere around here? He remembered some of the star patterns from when he was a child, but just like everything else, the knowledge slipped from his mind.

He reached out a finger and pretended to trace the Corvus constellation, the one associated with Apollo. One eye shut, he outlined the sky with invisible lines and connected them by imaginary dots. 

Peter wished he could take off his mask. The warm breeze that passed through that night was calming, enjoyable. Warm weather like that, staring into the void of the sky, continued to bring back nice memories of his childhood. The last day of seventh grade. Uncle Ben helping him with his English diorama. May painting his nails when he was nine. 

“Figured I’d find you here.” 

Peter quickly sat up. In front of him stood Johnny Storm, eyes tired, hair tussled. Either he’d just taken a nap, or he’d been up all night thinking about Peter too.

“Yeah well....” He wasn’t sure what to say. Spider-Man wasn’t supposed to know about Johnny Storm’s inner turmoil. It was hard to keep his voice from wavering, from sounding upset. There was no way he could keep indifferent.

Johnny gestured toward the spot next to Peter. Peter nodded and Johnny lowered himself down. 

“What’re you doing up here so late?” Johnny asked, frowning. He seemed concerned.

“I don’t know. Bored, I guess. You?” He didn’t turn his head to look at him.

“Me too. I guess. I don’t know.... something I have to.... have to set right. I hate making decisions.” Johnny murmured.

Peter didn’t respond right away. He wiped his palms on his legs and tried to even out his breathing. Don’t look too tense. 

Taxis honked down below. People were yelling at each other. Tourists took pictures of the city. It was late, but like the motto said, the city never sleeps.

He could smell something good cooking. If it were any other time, Peter might have asked Johnny to go for a bite to eat. His stomach rumbled and he repeated a prayer in his mind that Johnny didn’t hear it. 

“You mad at me?” Johnny asked. “Cause if you are- I can... I see why. I’m always running to you about my issues and- I’m sorry. You probably got a lot going on too. With being... I mean. Spider-Man and that.” 

Peter shook his head, “I’m not mad at you.” 

He could see the hint of a smile on Johnny’s face, “So... we’re good? I don’t know- the tension going on here was pretty insufferable.”

Peter let himself laugh as he finally turned towards Johnny. He held out his hand and Johnny looked down at his red and blue gloved fingers. 

Johnny grabbed his hand and they shook on- whatever it was they were shaking on. 

In a weird way, it felt as if he were looking at Johnny for the first time. His blue eyes wavered as his held eye contact with Peter. His hair looked like it was woven out of gold in the moonlight. There was a tiny scar on the side of his neck. His skin was so pale in contrast to Peter’s. If he could just.....

He took a deep breath and made a split-second decision, one he would either regret or find comfort in. 

“Do you like The Beatles?” The words fell out of his mouth. 

Johnny quirked an eyebrow at him. He looked at Peter as if he were crazy. Then he let out a small laugh. 

“What?” He asked.

“You should listen to Abbey Road. It’s gonna blow your mind.” He hoped Johnny had recognized him saying that before. Boxes of records and beams of sunlight streaming through the window. 

Johnny looked at him, surprised. His face softened. 

“You remind me of my friend.” Johnny said softly.

Peter swung his legs back and forth in frustration. Surely Johnny would be noticing by now, right? Putting the pieces together, the gears in his brain turning.....

“Your friend? Peter?” He asked.

“Yeah... wait.” This was it. Now or never. 

”You know Peter?” Johnny’s voice was rising. He could tell Johnny was panicking internally. But not because he was realizing Spidey and Peter were the same person: because he thought the two guys he was interested in knew each other.

“What?! No- the.... god.” He was losing it little by little, every second ticking by, waiting for Johnny to actually get what Peter was trying to do.

Peter wasn’t a patient person. Which is why he reached up, tugged his mask over his head, and threw it behind him. 

Johnny’s eyes widened. Peter was huffing out his breaths at this point, trying his best to stay calm. His hair fell in front of his face, he was pretty sure his bottom lip was still raw from getting split open earlier, and he felt more exposed than ever.

Johnny didn’t say anything. His eyes were roaming over Peter’s face. The top of his head, his eyes, nose and lips and his neck- where the suit started to begin.

They stared at each other. Peter wanted Johnny to say something first.

Johnny only continued to sit there. Mouth wide open. Facial features frozen. 

He then opened his mouth a bit wider. Peter waited. 

“Peter.” Johnny said.

“.....Yes?” Peter replied, uneasily. 

“What’re you doing in Spider-Man’s suit?!” He squawked.

Needless to say, Peter was horrified. He stared at Johnny. And it seemed now that  Peter was the crazy one, when it should’ve been the other way around. 

“I....” Peter couldn’t finish his sentence. Unbelievable.

Peter flopped onto his back and groaned, “I feel like I’m having a breakdown!” He slipped his hands in his hair and tugged.

“Tell me about it. Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Johnny spat. 

And then he exploded. He sat back up, grabbed Johnny by the shoulders, and yelled in his face, “I’m Spider-Man you dumb ass!!” 

To emphasize his words, he flicked his wrist and thick webbing shot out and hit the opposite building. 

“I have been since I was like- fourteen! I’m him! Me, Peter! Do you get it now?!” He asked, his words coming out sharp and a bit filthy. 

Again, silence washed over them. Peter had to calm himself down before he said anything else and it seemed Johnny was too dumbfounded before he could speak another word. 

Johnny sighed. Peter looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked angry. Peter’s shoulders slumped. Maybe the yelling in his face approach hadn’t helped either. 

“So it was you? All that time?”

“Y-“

“You sat there while I- spilled my guts to you? About ... about you?!”

“Hold on- I’m trying to process that sentence-“

“And you just listened?! Didn’t tell me to stop or- didn’t tell me the truth?! Let me think I loved two people?!”

“It wasn’t e-“

“That’s fucked up. It’s fucked up and you know it.” Johnny said, his voice as cold as ice. Peter shut his mouth.

Johnny was right. 

Peter stared down at his feet. So he fucked this one up. No imaginary Parker-Storm wedding in the near future. No meeting Aunt May or getting high again while listening to Billy Idol on full blast. 

But he couldn’t feel sorry for himself. It was his fault. He ruined the relationship- the whatever they had- and now it was done. Goodbye Johnny Storm.

“You’re right. I fucked up.” Peter murmured.

“You can say that again.” Johnny bit back. 

“Okay but here’s the thing-“ Peter leaned forward.

“Oh god.” Johnny rolled his eyes. 

“Isn’t there blame on both ends? I mean- I did have to sit there and listen to you fall in love with another person. Okay, yeah that person was me but..... and-“

Johnny glared at him. Peter shrunk in on himself.

“Okay yeah. My fault.” He raised his hand slowly.

“I guess I meant.... I was hurt too. But you’re right- I should’ve told you. Or just- I’m sorry. You can be mad at me all you want.” Peter sighed. 

Peter tilted his head toward the sky and again, started mapping out forgotten stars. Aries. Leo. Ursa Major. 

Johnny stared at him, “So what now?”

Peter paused. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“Oh, come on.” Johnny grumbled. 

Peter turned his attention away from the sky and looked at Johnny, “No, seriously. I’m at a loss.”

Johnny bit his bottom lip and looked out toward the city. 

“So I love you. There. I’ve said it already but- one more time won’t hurt.” Johnny’s face turned red, either from anger, embarrassment, or a combination of both. 

Peter wasn’t looking so good himself. His cheeks flushed and his lips turned downward. Suddenly it was very important where his hands should be positioned.

“You’re-.... I don’t know what to say.” Peter said.

“Look. I’m still pissed at you. Like a lot. I just- I don’t.... I don’t know where to go from here.” Johnny confessed. 

Peter wasn’t sure either. But the way Johnny looked at him, the way he spoke, it was as if Johnny was considering giving him another chance. He wanted to build something out of the broken ruins of their relationship. 

They locked eyes. Peter tilted his head and the corner of his mouth lifted upward. 

He hummed a song he was sure Johnny recognized.

Maybe Johnny would. Maybe they wouldn’t work out. But they had to try. Humming the lyrics, the anger disappeared from Johnny’s face as he came to realize what Peter was asking.

_ Take on me.  _

_September 13th, 1985_

_9:05PM_

It was the first time he was invited to a house party. Well, technically Johnny was invited. But Peter was standing right next to him, and they probably didn’t want to make Peter feel bad, so as a result, an invitation was shoved into Peter’s hand as well. 

There were people shoved against each other from wall to wall. Soda was spilled on a coffee table, chip crumbs climbed a staircase, and the music was so loud Peter was sure he’d go deaf in one ear. 

He was relieved that the person throwing the party wasn’t someone from his school. It was a girl Johnny had known for awhile, she went to some artsy school, and they knew each other from when Johnny had offered to model for some art students a few years back. 

Peter wasn’t comfortable with what he was wearing, but apparently party fashion was a pretty important thing, so Peter had asked Johnny to help him out. 

He was wearing Johnny’s old clothes. Something that fit Peter’s personality better than Johnny’s. Johnny hadn’t liked the way he looked in it so he had only worn it once or twice. Still, the shirt smelled like Johnny’s room, helping him feel more grounded and less spaced out. A green silk shirt with yellow trim that was a size too big for him, making him feel insecure but safe at the same time, paired with dark slacks. 

Johnny looked breathtaking, as usual. A blue blazer matched with blue pants and a yellow and black tie flopped over his white shirt. The colors complimented his eyes and hair and Peter had to remind himself to take pictures of him when they returned to Johnny’s place. 

The room flashed neon lights- violet, pink, orange, et cetera. People were bumping into each other, yelling, dancing with their friends and strangers. 

Johnny promised he’d be back in a few seconds, said he saw some old friends. He pushed through the crowd and, almost instantly, he vanished from Peter’s sight. He felt slightly awkward, sticking against the wall, people watching. 

A minute passed. 

Suddenly, the dance floor parted as two girls shoved their way into the middle. Taking each other’s hands, they started dancing together, wildly, dramatically. Peter stifled a laugh, though it didn’t matter: no one could hear him anyway. 

A bunch of people laughed around them, cheering them on. Eventually, before Peter knew what was happening, the blonde girl leaned forward and kissed the other on the mouth. Peter froze. 

Some people stopped and stared. But in the crowd, a few girls screamed encouragements. Other than that, it didn’t seem like a big deal. One guy in the crowd shouted.... less endearing terms, but the girls turned their cheek and walked to a different part of the crowd. Peter found himself smiling.

“What’s got you grinning like that?” Johnny’s hand came down on his shoulder. 

“Let’s dance!” Peter grabbed his hands before Johnny could protest.

“Together?” Johnny asked, basically shouting over the sound of the music. 

“Mhm.” Peter was already pulling him by the arm toward the middle of the room.

“Thought you couldn’t dance.” Johnny chuckled.

Peter turned on his heel and looked up at him, “You said you’d teach me.”

Johnny grinned. He spun Peter around so that it was Johnny leading him closer and closer to the cluster of vibrating people. 

Peter and Johnny’s hands didn’t leave each other as they spastically shook their heads to the beat and wobbled each other’s arms up and down. 

_ I try, I try. _

In 1983, Michael Jackson released Thriller on December 2nd.

Johnny threw his head back and laughed as he spun the brunette around until Peter’s vision became spotty.

_ Never gonna fall for modern love- walks beside me. _

In 1981, MTV was born in early August.

Peter stepped on Johnny’s toes and laughed when Johnny winced in pain. Johnny told Peter he had to be the worst dancer he ever met.

_ Modern love walks on by. _

A month from now, Rock Hudson would die from AIDS. The word would be confused and crushed.

Peter covered his eyes with his hands when Johnny moved back a few feet to attempt the moonwalk. 

_ Modern love gets me to the church on time. _

October 21st, only six weeks later from the moment now, where Johnny and Peter danced together, would Dan White commit suicide in prison.

Johnny tugged on Peter’s wrist. Peter pressed his eyebrows together and his smile faded. Johnny dragged him away from the others, some of their eyes following, some didn’t care, and Peter stared back at them.

Johnny and Peter would be in their mid-twenties in 1993 when openly gay people would be banned from serving in the military.

Peter was led upstairs, down a corridor, and finally to the darkest corner in the house.

Johnny would be 29 when Clinton banned federal recognition for same-sex marriage.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

“Just wanna kiss you.” Johnny said. “But now I.... I-“

Peter frowned and lifted his hand. He touched Johnny’s cheek. “What’s stopping you?”

Johnny smiled wearily. “Nothin. Just- I didn’t.... I don’t wanna make you upset.”

“You’re not. You won’t.” Peter assured but Johnny still backed away.

“It takes time. I get that. Don’t beat yourself up. I’ll never get upset with you over stuff like this. Ever.”

The music downstairs seemed to have gotten louder in the past few minutes. Hardly anyone was upstairs. The people who were stood around engaged in their own conversations, ignoring the suspicious sounds coming from the bedroom down the hallway. 

“I’m ruining your night, huh?” Johnny laughed, though he wasn’t sure why.

Peter stuck out his lower lip, “You’re an idiot.”

Johnny finally found himself relaxing. Peter looked small in his clothing. His arms were crossed now, and Johnny could tell by his stance that Peter was about to give him one of his infamous lectures.

“I know.” Johnny whispered. 

Five teenagers locked in a room.

Three figures in an art museum.

Walt Whitman’s poetry.

Running on train tracks.

_ Nobody puts baby in a corner.  _

Peter locked his fingers behind Johnny’s neck and pulled him forward. Peter was standing on the tips of his toes. Johnny pressed his lips against Peter’s. Peter’s eyes slowly slid shut. They barely took the time to come up for air. It was slow and chaste and Johnny grabbed Peter’s shoulders. Peter’s eyelashes against his cheek. He smelt like mint- his hair smelt like Johnny’s conditioner.

“Someone might see.” Peter murmured, pulling back and pressing one last kiss on Johnny’s mouth, his nose, the underside of his neck.

Johnny seemed to have taken that into consideration. “No... there’s not enough people up here.....”

“Johnny...”

“Let’s go downstairs and try it again.”

Peter looked so happy, his lips tugged into a goofy smile, his hands wrapped around his neck. All of Johnny’s fear instantly washed away.

Johnny and Peter would be in their late forties when gay marriage would be legalized. 

“It might end badly.” Peter raised an eyebrow but he was obviously amused.

“And? I got the flames, you got the webs.” Johnny shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’re ridiculous.” Peter shook his head, but didn’t protest

Peter stood at the edge of the staircase. Different colors flashed across his face. He was smiling, his eyes crinkled. He extended his hand. 

Johnny stepped forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly in a few weeks I’ll have a west side story Spideytorch AU written and uploaded so if any of you guys like WSS watch out for that! Thanks for reading.


End file.
